LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


A  QUAKER  SINGER'S 
RECOLLECTIONS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

SOW  YORK  •   BOSTON  •  CHICAGO  •  DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •   BOMBAY  •   CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


DAVID  BISPHAM 

From  a  Photograph  by  Hartsook,  Los  Angeles 


A 

QUAKER  SINGER'S 
RECOLLECTIONS 


BY 

DAVID  BISPHAM 


David  Bispham  Memorial  Edition 

Issued  Through  the  Courtesy  of 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Copyright  1920 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up  «nd  electrotyped.  Published  January,  1920 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

A  Heart  to  Heart  Talk  with  Students  of  Singing — and 
their  Teachers 

The  possession  of  a  real  singing  voice  coupled  with 
real  musical  ability  is  a  very  rare  and,  seemingly,  a  chance 
gift  granted  to  but  one  in  ten  thousand.  The  voice  may 
exist  without  the  requisite  intelligence,  or  the  musician 
ship  minus  the  necessary  vocal  equipment.  The  possessor 
of  both  voice  and  brains  is  a  most  fortunate  mortal  and 
should  be  afforded  every  opportunity  to  make  a  career; 
the  partially  endowed,  however,  while  entirely  at  liberty 
to  cultivate  their  talents  for  personal  and  amateur  use, 
should  be  carefully  steered  away  from  all  thought  of  a 
public  career  and  not  lured  toward  it. 

Children  should  hear  and  be  taught  to  sing  good  music 
in  all  schools  as  a  delightful  natural  pastime,  not  as  a 
matter  of  dull  routine,  until  Nature  determines  whether, 
in  special  instances,  further  musical  study  is  advisable. 
Though  more  women  than  men  turn  to  music  for  their 
livelihood,  marriage  and  family  cares  divert  many  from 
further  thought  of  it  as  a  profession.  Boys'  voices, 
touchingly  pellucid  as  they  often  are,  seldom  retain  their 
former  charm  after  the  time  of  change;  with  manhood 


vi  PREFACE 

and  its  cares  come  thoughts,  desires  and  urges  in  other 
directions,  until  most  youths  consider  singing,  after  all, 
not  to  be  a  man's  work.  So  we  see  that  the  number  of 
contestants  in  the  field  is  rapidly  being  reduced  by  the 
operations  of  that  same  Power  that  gave  the  gift  and 
still  offers  the  prize  to  all  such  as  are  strong  enough  to 
persevere  in  the  contest.  Yet  there  are  multitudes  of  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men  and  women  pressing  in,  lured 
by  the  prospect  of  what  they  consider  to  be  easy  gain,  but 
these  require  further  weeding  out  if  even  a  tolerably  good 
standard  is  to  be  maintained  in  the  profession. 

I  once  was,  for  a  short  time,  President  of  an  Associa 
tion  of  Singing  Teachers,  and,  during  my  speech  at  the 
annual  banquet,  my  views  upon  two  subjects  caused  such 
a  storm  of  protest  that  I  was  good-naturedly  hissed,  and 
another  reigned  in  my  stead  thereafter.  The  points  to 
which  exception  was  taken  were,  first,  that  no  one  should 
teach  singing  who  could  not  sing,  or  who  had  not  been 
a  singer;  and,  second,  that  no  one  should  teach  people 
who  had  not  enough  voice  to  become,  at  least,  fairly  good 
amateurs.  The  outcry  took  the  concrete  form  of — "How 
are  we,  then,  to  earn  a  living?"  To  this  my  reply  was — 
"Do  something  else ;  that  is  what  most  pupils  have  to  do 
after  wasting  time  and  money  on  an  Art  in  which  they 
never  had  even  a  remote  chance  of  success." — Then  came 
the  hissing.  I  am  uncompromising  in  my  opinion  upon 
these  matters  and  try  to  make  them  plain  early  in  my 
association  with  vocalists  who  seek  my  advice. 


PREFACE 


VII 


Civilization  of  the  present  is  built  up  on  models  of  the 
past.  In  every  field  of  endeavor,  we  use  the  experiences 
and  accomplishments  of  those  before  us  in  point  of  time 
as  stepping-stones  to  still  further  accomplishment.  Just 
so  it  is  essential  to  add  to  the  precept  of  the  teacher  the 
example  of  the  performer,  and  we  may  paraphrase  the 
old  proverb  by  saying, — an  ounce  of  example  is  worth  a 
pound  of  precept.  The  student  may  learn  more  from 
the  model  held  before  him  by  a  competent  artist  than  by 
the  unproved  ideas  of  a  teacher  personally  inexperienced 
in  singing. 

Nothing  is  truer  when  applied  to  singing  than  that 
"Many  are  called,  but  few  are  chosen.n  But  now  let 
me  take  counsel  with  those  who  have  demonstrated  the 
possibility  of  ultimate  success — given  Luck  and  Health, 
Opportunity,  Natural  Refinement  and  Level-headedness. 
At  all  costs  singers  must  henceforth  strive  to  avoid  the 
general  reproach  of  "Vox,  et  praeterea  nihil" — Voice,  and 
nothing  much  besides.  What  must  they  do  in  the  struggle 
to  attain  a  high  place  in  so  exalted  a  calling  as  that  of 
a  singer?  What  must  they  know?  What  must  they 
undergo  ? 

Would-be-vocalists  must  continue  carefully  and  rigor 
ously  to  train  their  voices  in  strength  and  agility  so  that 
the  very  delicate  mechanism  of  the  larynx  may  endure 
the  strain  of  the  long  hours  of  practice  in  the  studio 
and  of  rehearsal,  before  a  public  performance  of  any  dig 
nified  character  is  to  be  thought  of.  Vocalists  must 


viii  PREFACE 

how  to  read  music  well  and  should  be  as  thoroughly 
trained  for  the  requirements  of  vocal  art  as  instrumen 
talists  have  to  be  for  the  reading  and  rendering  of  violin, 
piano  and  organ  music.  Orchestral  players  working  for 
Union  wages  usually  despise  high-priced  songbirds  whose 
technical  shortcomings  are  so  obvious. 

Singers  must  acquire  a  full  repertoire  of  classic  songs, 
oratorios  and  operas.  These  things  should  be  learned 
first,  learned  rapidly  and  learned  well ;  they  are  the  stock 
in  trade  of  the  singer,  but  it  is  scarcely  realized  owing  to 
the  regrettable  but  quite  frequent  debasement  of  taste 
of  the  present  time.  Singers  should  learn  Italian,  French 
and  German  for  the  great  music  of  those  schools,  and 
they  must  learn  English  for  the  magnificent  music  of  our 
own  tongue — and  for  very  shame's  sake, — for  not  one 
singer  out  of  ten  today  can  be  understood  when  singing 
English,  except  in  musical  comedy  where,  unfortunately, 
good  singing  is  not  a  requisite,  but  where,  owing  to  the 
lack  of  other  operatic  opportunities,  the  very  best  avail 
able  talent  could  be  chosen,  and  should  be  heard. 

The  artist  should  realize  that  he  may  have  to  undergo, 
beside  what  has  been  said  about  training  for  his  work, 
a  very  hard  life  of  early  hours  and  late  hours,  with  all- 
day  work  between;  of  unavoidable  travel  in  cold,  heat 
and  discomfort;  and  of  performance  under  stress  of  ill 
health.  But,  worst  of  all,  the  artist  must  endure  the 
very  general  and  equally  undeserved  reproach  of  lax 
morals,  because  Music  and  the  Stage  in  Puritan  times 


PREFACE  ix 

acquired  a  bad  name  from  which,  in  the  esteem  of  many 
otherwise  sensible  people,  they  have  by  no  means  re 
covered. 

All  these  things,  however,  are  set  forth  in  the  following 
narrative  by  one  who  has  had  long  and  close  personal 
experience  with  every  phase  of  his  profession,  and  who 
therefore  knows  of  what  he  speaks.  To  have  acted  in 
twenty-five  plays  and  to  have  given  as  many  recitations 
to  music,  to  have  performed  fifty-eight  operatic  roles,  to 
have  rendered  over  two  hundred  oratorios,  cantatas,  and 
kindred  works,  and  to  have  sung  to  date  some  fifteen  hun 
dred  songs,  making  a  grand  total  of  over  eighteen  hun 
dred  titles  is  no  mean  achievement  for  an  American 
Quaker  Singer,  but  it  is  not  a  circumstance  to  what  has 
been  done  by  many  of  my  colleagues  in  the  cities  of 
Europe  where  artistic  work  is  so  highly  systematized. 
Such  an  advance  is,  I  hope,  possible  in  the  United  States 
where  all  musical  art  would  be  vastly  improved  by  the 
initial  careful  selection  of  talented  executants  and  by 
more  intelligent  study  of  a  wisely  chosen  curriculum  and 
preparation  in  all  branches  of  vocal  art  before  any  as 
pirants  would  be  permitted  to  inflict  themselves  upon  the 
public. 

September,  1921. 


PREFACE 

IN  overlooking  a  lifetime  one  may  overlook  many 
things  in  it ;  I  have  forgotten  some,  I  suppose ;  it  is  often 
convenient  to  have  a  memory  that  forgets,  but  how  incon 
venient  not  to  have  one  that  remembers! 

Memoirs  —  they  are  what  may  come  when  we  have 
shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil ;  Reminiscences  —  the  word 
is  too  high-sounding,  unless  one  sings  it ;  but  Recollections 
may  be  spoken;  they  belong  more  to  the  present. 

Recollections,  then,  let  these  be.  Some  of  mine  are 
subconscious,  as  of  times  far  and  far  away,  when  my  an 
cestors  were,  as  Professor  Huxley  said,  "  sitting  in  trees 
and  painting  themselves  blue  " ;  or  of  a  later  time  when 
Christianity  brought  Rome,  her  art  and  her  language, 
again  to  Britain ;  or  of  a  nearer  day,  when  Freedom  was 
demanded  for  the  folk;  or  of  that  time  still  more  near, 
when  for  Freedom's  sake  my  own  kindred  sought  a  freer 
life  in  a  newer  world. 

These  things  are  ever  present  in  my  thought,  and  of  my 
life  it  should  be  an  easy  thing  to  tell;  yet  it  is  not,  for 
am  I  not  the  concentrated  essence  of  the  experiences  of 
my  ancestors,  as  well  as  of  myself?  And  so  of  my  own 
self  to  tell  the  plain,  unvarnished  tale,  I  find  it  hard. 

Friends  are  a  necessity  for  an  artist:  without  them, 
be  he  never  so  good,  he  fails;  with  them,  he  stands  at 
least  a  chance  of  success.  It  has  been  my  good  fortune 
to  be  blessed  with  many  friends  in  private,  and  I  owe 
nothing  but  thanks  to  the  encouragement  of  the  critical 


PREFACE 

fraternity;  but  to  the  public  after  all  I  owe  everything, 
for  to  it,  in  the  last  analysis,  is  an  artist  beholden  most. 
At  present,  however,  I  wish  to  express  my  gratitude  to 
those  who  have  so  kindly  helped  me  with  this  little  vol 
ume,  not  the  least  among  these  being  my  good  friend 
Wallace  Rice,  to  whom  I  owe  my  delivery  from  the  toils 
and  fascinations  of  the  dictaphone. 

In  this  book  I  have  refrained  from  going  into  many 
particulars  of  my  artistic  career,  preferring  to  give  a 
general  survey  of  its  principal  points,  for  my  object  is  not 
only  to  interest  music  lovers  by  giving  them  a  glimpse 
into  an  artist's  life,  but  to  provide  a  stimulus  for  amateurs 
who  contemplate  entering  the  professional  arena,  and  to 
show  them  how  necessary  it  is  to  have,  in  the  first  place, 
the  natural  ability,  then  the  inner  urge  to  prosecute  their 
studies  intelligently,  the  impulse  to  continue  against  op 
position,  and  the  determination  to  endure  to  the  end. 

To  the  profession  of  music,  many  are  called  but  few 
are  chosen.  Of  those  who  do  achieve  success,  some  are 
born  to  the  purple,  and  so  have  the  avenues  of  approach 
thrown  open  to  them.  But  most  of  us  are  obliged  to 
struggle  in  the  press  of  those  who  throng  the  Muse  even 
to  touch  the  hem  of  her  garment,  and  we  may  be  thank 
ful  if  she  stretches  forth  her  hand  to  help  us  on  our  way. 

DAVID  BISPHAM. 

New  York, 
November  15,  1919. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 
INFANCY  AND  ORIGINS i 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  YOUNG  IDEA 15 

CHAPTER  III 
Music's  GOLDEN  TONGUE 28 

CHAPTER  IV 
THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE 38 

CHAPTER  V 
STEPPING-STONES 47 

CHAPTER  VI 
DECISION 55 

CHAPTER  VII 
SERIOUS  STUDY  BEGINS      . 62 

CHAPTER  VIII 
OPERA  FROM  AFAR 72 

CHAPTER  IX 
SPIRITS  AND  SOOTHSAYING 76 

CHAPTER  X 
CONCERTS  IN  LONDON  .  82 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XI  PAGE 

OPERA  FROM  WITHIN 92 

CHAPTER  XII 
THE  THRESHOLD  CROSSED 102 

CHAPTER  XIII 
PLANCHETTE  AND  PROPHECY no 

CHAPTER  XIV 
CLIMBING  THE  STEEPS 117 

CHAPTER  XV 
WITH  MANY  TONGUES 123 

CHAPTER  XVI 
FESTIVAL  AND  UNIVERSITY       .     .     .     .' 131 

CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  FAT  KNIGHT 139 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
ARTS  AND  LETTERS 146 

CHAPTER  XIX 
PHANTOMS  OF  HARMONY 157 

CHAPTER  XX 
FROM  GRAVE  TO  GAY 168 

CHAPTER  XXI 
SWIMMING  WITH  THE  TIDE 177 

CHAPTER  XXII 
MY  AIN  COUNTRIE 185 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXIII  PAGE 

FORTUNE  GOOD  AND  ILL 196 

CHAPTER  XXIV 
CYCLES  OF  SONG 204 

CHAPTER  XXV 
BEETHOVEN  IN  DRAMA 215 

CHAPTER  XXVI 
MY  NATIVE  TONGUE 224 

CHAPTER  XXVII 
ENTER  DANNY  DEEVER 230 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 
WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR 238 

CHAPTER  XXIX 
HAPS  AND  MISHAPS 247 

CHAPTER  XXX 
THE  UNFLYING  DUTCHMAN 259 

CHAPTER  XXXI 
A  BAFFLED  IDEAL 269 

CHAPTER  XXXII 
ACROSS  SEAS  AND  CONTINENTS 280 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 
GOING  To  AND  FRO 290 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 
COMPOSER  AND  CRITIC 301 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXV  PAGE 

WOMAN  AND  SONG 309 

CHAPTER  XJXXVI 
THREE  PRESIDENTS 317 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 
SCULPTOR  AND  STAGE 326 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES 336 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 
PROGRAM  MAKING 347 

CHAPTER  XL 
IN  REDWOOD  FORESTS 353 

CHAPTER  XLI 
DIVERSE  INTERESTS 364 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

David  Bispham Frontispiece 

PAGE 

William  D.  Bispham,  Jane  S.  Bispham,  David  S.  Bispham, 

aged  three Facing  page       2 

Myself  when  Young 5 

Bispham  Coat  of  Arms 9 

Scull  Coat  of  Arms 13 

David  Bispham,  as  the  Due  de  Longueville,  in  Messager's 

Opera,  "  The  Basoche  " Facing  page     80 

David  Bispham,   as  Kurwenal,  in  Wagner's  "  Tristan  and 

Isolde" Facing  page  114 

David    Bispham,    as   Alberich,    in   Wagner's   "  Niebelungen 

Ring"          Facing  page  114 

David  Bispham,  as  Beckmesser  in  Wagner's  "  Meistersingers  " 

Facing  page  124 

David  Bispham,  as  Schickaneder  in  Mozart's"  Impresario  " 

Facing  page  124 

David   Bispham,   as   The  Vicar,   in   Lehmann's   "  Vicar  of 

Wakefield" Facing  page  142 

David  Bispham,  as  Falstaff,  in  Verdi's  "  Falstaff  " 

Facing  page  142 

David  Bispham,  as  Wotan,  in  Wagner's  "  Valkyrie  " 

Facing  page  208 

David  Bispham,  as  Gomarez,  in  Floridia's  "  Paoletta  "  .      . 

Facing  page  342 

Gomarez  rejuvenated  in  Floridia's  "  Paoletta  "  Facing  page  342 

David   Bispham  —  The  Death  of   Gomarez  —  in  Floridia's 

"Paoletta"       . Facing  page  343 

David  Bispham,  from  a  sketch  by  J.  A.  Cahill  ....   344 


A  QUAKER  SINGER'S 
RECOLLECTIONS 

CHAPTER  I 

INFANCY   AND   ORIGINS 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky; 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began; 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man ; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old. 

—  William  Wordsworth. 

MY  earliest  recollection  —  and  what  could  be  a  more 
beautiful  one?  —  is  of  seeing  a  perfect  rainbow  after 
heavy  storm.  I  was  a  child  of  two  and  a  half  years, 
spending  part  of  a  summer  with  my  parents  at  Atlantic 
City,  so  convenient  to  us  of  Philadelphia.  At  the  close 
of  a  rainy  afternoon,  when  most  of  the  guests  were  in 
doors  and  we  small  fry  unwillingly  cabined  in  the  parlors 
of  the  old  Clarendon  House,  a  friend  of  my  father's 
came  in  and,  picking  me  from  the  floor,  said,  "  Come,  my 
little  man,  I'll  show  thee  a  rainbow." 

Carrying  me  on  his  shoulder,  he  bore  me  outside  and 
stood  me  on  the  railing  of  the  porch  overlooking  the  sea. 
There,  both  its  legs  in  the  water,  glowed  a  perfect  rain 
bow  against  the  black  cloud  that  had  been  pelting  us  with 
its  floods  shortly  before.  My  father's  friend,  and  mine, 
explained  to  me  about  the  shower,  about  the  sun's  shin 
ing  out  through  the  rain  after  the  passing  of  the  cloud, 
and  how  "  that  makes  the  rainbow."  Many  a  time  since 


2  A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

have  I  found  —  as  who  has  not?  —  that  there  is  beauty 
awaiting  us  after  duress  and  storm,  and  a  lesson  withal ! 

As  I  look  back,  Arch  Street  in  Philadelphia  seems  very 
important  to  me.  A  dignified  street  it  was;  one  of  pri 
vate  houses  with  an  occasional  necessary  "  store  "  on  a 
corner;  but  now,  alas,  how  changed!  I  was  born  near 
it,  at  No.  30,  North  Seventh  Street,  on  January  5,  1857, 
though  my  birth  seems  to  be  recorded  nowhere,  except 
possibly  in  a  family  Bible  which  long  search  has  not  re 
vealed. 

The  reason  for  this  lack  of  record  is  simple.  My 
mother  was  Miss  Jane  Lippincott  Scull  before  her  mar 
riage  to  my  father,  William  Danforth  Bispham,  and 
both  were  of  old  Quaker  families ;  but  as  my  father  had 
left  the  Quaker  body,  my  mother  was  in  consequence  "  dis 
owned  for  marrying  out  of  meeting,"  and  I  was  born  be 
fore  she  was  received  back  into  the  fold.  Hence  there  is 
no  record  of  my  birth  in  the  archives  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  and  all  effort  has  been  unavailing  to  discover 
where  my  father,  though  a  most  particular  and  method 
ical  lawyer,  set  down  the  fact  of  the  arrival  of  his  son 
and  heir. 

Another  early  memory  and  my  first  recollection  of  the 
"  Sabbath  "  is  of  bowed  window  shutters  on  a  summer 
day  and  of  going  forth  with  my  parents,  led  by  my  moth 
er's  hand,  to  Arch  Street  half  a  "  square  "  distant,  and  so 
to  Meeting.  As  we  went,  we  three  together,  on  many  a 
happy  "  First  Day,"  we  stopped  to  look  at  the  grave  of 
Benjamin  Franklin  in  the  corner  of  the  cemetery  at  Fifth 
and  Arch.  Below  Third  Street,  across  the  way  from  the 
Meeting  House,  was  the  old  shop  of  Betsy  Ross,  where 
the  first  Stars  and  Stripes  is  said  to  have  been  made.  At 
Seventh  and  Market  was  the  house  where  Thomas  Jeffer- 


INFANCY  AND  ORIGINS  3 

son  wrote  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  At  Sixth 
and  Chestnut  stood  the  State  House  with  the  Liberty  Bell. 
How  often  have  I  climbed  the  belfry  tower!  And  how 
well  I  recall  the  coming  of  the  boys  from  the  Civil  War, 
cheering  their  lungs  out  as  they  swung  past  the  sacred 
place  of  the  nation's  birth ! 

The  quietude  of  my  earliest  years  was  too  soon  broken 
in  upon  by  wars  and  the  rumors  of  wars.  Fort  Sumter 
and  Bull  Run  were  in  every  one's  mouths,  to  be  followed 
by  the  names  of  McClellan,  Sherman,  Sheridan,  and 
Grant.  Men  were  drilling  everywhere  with  canes  and 
broomsticks.  I  even  remember  seeing  men  armed  with 
shot-guns  jumping  on  the  Market  Street  horse-cars,  to 
take  the  first  train  for  Gettysburg  during  Lee's  invasion 
of  Pennsylvania.  My  father  had  already  volunteered 
for  the  Blue  Reserves,  so  called,  and  had  two  months  of 
soldiering  before  the  crisis  was  over. 

When  he  returned,  to  our  surprise  he  preferred  sleep 
ing  on  the  little  grass  plot  in  our  yard  to  repose  in  his 
bed.  But  he  was  a  rather  original  man  —  he  played 
the  flute,  for  instance,  ran  to  fires  with  the  Diligent  En 
gine  company,  read  Darwin  and  Huxley,  and  was  called 
a  freethinker.  He  had  been  educated  at  the  Lawrence- 
ville  School  and  at  Princeton  University,  studying  law  at 
the  latter.  He  freed  himself  so  completely  from  Quaker 
ism  that  he  would  not  be  married  in  the  Friends'  Meet 
ing.  My  mother  must  have  been,  as  indeed  she  was, 
deeply  attached  to  one  whom  she  followed  to  the  dis 
approval  of  her  parents  and  of  the  Meeting,  but  time 
heals  all  things  and  she  returned  to  the  fold  after  my 
birth. 

The  little  Seventh  Street  house  fell  from  its  estate  and 
is  no  more.  I  often  visited  it  in  its  decline,  calling  back 


4          A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

visions  of  my  father  as  a  volunteer  fireman  hurrying  out 
in  helmet,  cape,  and  boots.  I  can  still  hear  the  soft  notes 
of  his  flute.  I  remember  the  room  where  I  was  born,  the 
red-headed  sulphur  matches  I  ate  and  the  convulsion  that 
followed,  the  torture  of  learning  to  read  at  my  mother's 
knee,  and  the  nightmare  I  used  so  often  to  have  which 
was  an  unholy  combination  of  the  Fourth  of  July  and  the 
Book  of  Revelation  —  pin-wheels  and  rockets  and  the 
end  of  the  world  consumed  in  fervent  heat ! 

My  father  and  I  got  on  well — -very  well  as  I  grew 
older  and  music  began  to  grow  within  me;  but,  what  a 
fright  he  gave  me  once !  Unknown  to  me  he  put  on  a 
wig  while  having  his  head  shaved  to  stop  the  falling  of 
his  hair.  He  was  in  his  easy  chair  when  I  came  in  to 
climb  into  his  lap.  As  I  thrust  my  fingers  into  his  curly 
brown  hair  he  suddenly  bowed  his  head  and  left  the  wig 
in  my  hand.  Poor  child,  I  nearly  died  of  fright,  thinking 
I  had  pulled  my  father's  head  off !  It  was  my  first  ven 
ture  with  wigs,  and  little  did  my  parents  think  when 
soothing  me  that  I  should  wear  so  many  of  them  in 
after  life.  My  first  sight  of  a  boy  in  a  false  face  was 
little  better.  I  was  quieted  only  when  I  put  it  on  my 
self —  the  first  of  how  many  disguises! 

I  saw  Abraham  Lincoln  as  he  passed  in  the  procession 
on  the  occasion  of  an  official  visit  to  Philadelphia  and, 
though  but  a  child  of  five  or  six,  my  mental  picture  of 
the  tall  man  seated  in  his  open  carriage  as  he  raised 
his  hat  and  bowed  to  the  shouting  throngs  about  him  is 
as  clear  as  if  it  happened  yesterday.  Several  years  be 
fore  there  was  any  question  of  the  accuracy  of  George 
Gray  Barnard's  conception  of  Lincoln  I  was  able  to  enter 
my  personal  protest  to  the  sculptor  himself  while  visiting 
his  studio  and  seeing  the  sketch  of  the  statue  that  has 


Myself  When  Young 


6  A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

since  made  such  a  stir.  The  head  was  a  fine  study,  but 
in  my  opinion  he  entirely  misunderstood  the  body  of 
Lincoln  and  wrought  out  his  conception  in  evident  and  ut 
ter  disregard  of  what  he  actually  looked  like. 

I  vividly  recall  the  time  of  President  Lincoln's  as 
sassination,  for  I,  a  lad  of  eight,  came  home  from  school 
to  find  my  mother  upon  her  bed  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief, 
sobbing  out,  "  Our  savior  has  been  killed!  " 

Soon  after  this  we  moved  from  Philadelphia  to 
Moorestown,  New  Jersey,  to  live  until  after  my  gradu 
ation  from  college  in  1876.  I  had  often  been  there  be 
fore  on  the  old  stage-coach,  and  used  to  be  shown  the 
place  under  the  bank  of  Pennshawken  Creek  where  the 
first  members  of  my  family  to  pass  that  way  had  slept 
in  a  cave.  William  Penn  had  granted  lands  to  my  peo 
ple,  and  they  were  going  to  them  through  the  forests  that 
then  covered  the  country  to  take  up  their  land  and  settle 
down  among  the  Indians.  But  the  aborigines  were  never 
hostile  to  Friends  and  were  well  treated  by  them,  to  the 
mutual  advantage  of  both. 

We  lived  not  far  from  the  two  Bispham  farm  houses 
that  my  forebears  had  built  long  before,  one  of  which  still 
stands.  My  two  grandsires,  born  in  1795  and  1798  re 
spectively,  lived,  one  to  be  eighty-five  and  the  other  to  be 
eighty-nine.  Both  were  large  men,  six  feet  tall,  with  the 
simple  education  of  their  ancestors.  They  had  been  New 
Jersey  lads,  the  Bispham  family  belonging  to  Burlington, 
and  the  Sculls  to  Salem  County.  By  honest  work  and 
business  integrity  they  made  themselves  well  off,  both  ac 
cumulating  fortunes  considerable  for  those  days.  These 
properties  were  divided  equally  among  their  rather  nu 
merous  children,  so  that  no  large  portion  of  either  re 
mains  in  any  single  pair  of  hands. 


INFANCY  AND  ORIGINS  7 

Grandfather  Scull  had  for  many  years  a  house  at 
Germantown  as  well  as  one  in  Philadelphia,  and  there 
he  used  to  spend  the  summers,  six  miles  from  the  city  and, 
as  I  used  to  think,  at  the  end  of  a  long  journey.  The 
old  dwelling  still  stands  on  the  site  of  the  Battle  of 
Germantown  in  Main  Street,  nearly  opposite  the  Chew 
mansion  and  a  few  hundred  yards  above  the  Johnson 
house.  Many  a  happy  time  have  I  had  there  as  a  boy, 
wondering  over  the  scars  of  war  still  visible  then:  the 
cannon-ball  break  in  the  stone  at  the  corner  of  the  house, 
the  marks  of  musketry  upon  the  heavy  doors,  and  the 
famous  "  bullet-hole  fence  "  in  the  garden. 

Once  in  London  at  the  height  of  my  operatic  life,  sit 
ting  by  an  open  window  on  a  warm  summer  day,  an  old 
four-wheeler  crawled  by  and  the  odor  of  the  horse 
drifted  to  my  nostrils.  On  the  instant  I  saw  again  and 
vividly,  as  if  before  my  eyes,  the  old  Germantown  place 
where  I  had  been  so  often  in  early  boyhood:  the  stable, 
brown  painted,  the  big  bay  horses  in  their  stalls,  the 
'harness  in  its  appointed  place,  the  oval  duck-pond  in  the 
stable-yard,  the  currant-bordered  garden-walk,  the  grape- 
vined  arbor,  even  the  comet  of  the  early  Civil  War  time, 
and  finally  myself,  full  of  watermelon,  before  my  amused 
grandfather,  waddling  —  a  bit  of  an  actor  even  at  that 
early  age  —  to  make  him  laugh  the  louder. 

The  smell  from  that  antiquated  London  "  growler  " 
even  brought  back  to  me  the  memory  of  the  brogue  of  the 
Irish  serving-maids  in  the  family,  who  lived  out  their 
lives  in  my  grandfather's  service,  and  of  the  rich  Lan 
cashire  burr  of  the  English  coachman,  and  of  the  broken 
English  of  a  German  nurse.  My  knack  of  picking  up 
and  imitating  foreign  accents  and  modulations  of  speech, 
so  useful  upon  many  later  occasions,  was  doubtless  ac- 


8          A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

quired  at  this  time.  One  of  the  few  actors  whom  I  have 
found  it  difficult  to  imitate  successfully,  was  my  friend  the 
late  Beerbohm  Tree,  whose  peculiar  blend  of  German 
officer,  Jewish  actor,  and  Anglo-French  society  dude 
I  never  could  accomplish. 

Tastes  and  predilections,  quite  as  much  as  physical 
characteristics,  have  ancestral  origins,  and  it  is  no  small 
part  of  my  good  fortune  that  in  inheriting  a  sound  consti 
tution  and  rugged  health  from  these  grandparents  of 
mine,  I  came  also  into  possession  of  certain  literary  and 
artistic  leanings,  from  which  my  love  for  music  and  the 
stage  may  well  be  derived,  through  the  evident  gifts  in 
such  fields  which  were  apparent  in  my  mother's  family. 
Manuscript  poems  by  my  grandfather  and  by  his  eldest 
son,  my  uncle  Gideon  Scull,  are  still  in  my  possession, 
and  this  uncle  of  mine  wrote  a  number  of  books  of  a 
biographical  character,  and  in  addition  showed  consid 
erable  cleverness  by  his  drawings  in  pen-and-ink.  There 
is  a  family  legend  that  as  a  youth  at  table,  Gideon  would 
fashion  from  bread  little  animals,  beasts  of  the  field  and 
denizens  of  the  farmyard,  for  the  amusement  of  his 
younger  brothers  and  sisters.  My  uncle  David,  too, 
wrote  books,  choosing  religious  subjects  which  had  puz 
zled  him  and  every  one  before  him,  and  which  seem  as  far 
from  solution  as  ever;  while  Edward,  the  youngest 
brother,  exhibited  in  early  manhood  so  considerable  a 
talent  for  drawing  and  painting  that  he  entered  the 
classes  of  a  celebrated  Parisian  artist.  He  found  the  life 
distasteful,  however,  and  later  painted  only  for  his  own 
and  his  family's  enjoyment,  devoting  his  years  to  good 
works.  David  Scull,  the  second  brother  and  my  mother's 
favorite,  was  the  handsomest  man  I  have  ever  known, 
and  I  loved  him  deeply.  All  these  uncles  were  great 


Coat  of  Arms  of  the  Bispham  Family 


io         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

travelers,  though  my  father's  family  were  by  preference 
stay-at-homes. 

The  name  of  Bispham  is  one  of  great  antiquity  in  the 
north  of  England  and  exists  to  this  day  in  Lancashire  and 
in  the  Lake  District,  where  it  was  known  long  before  the 
time  of  William  the  Conqueror.  It  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Domesday  Book,  in  1086,  written  as  Biscopham,  since 
contracted  into  its  present  form,  derived  from  the  far 
more  ancient  name  of  the  noble  Saxon  family  of  Biscop 
with  the  addition  of  the  old  word  ham,  meaning  home, 
the  combination  signifying  "  The  home  of  the  Biscops." 

The  earliest  extended  mention  of  an  individual  bear 
ing  the  name  is  to  be  found  in  the  Chronicle  of  the  monk 
Florence  of  Worcester,  who  gives  a  long  account  of 
Benedict  Biscop  as  living  between  the  years  A.  D.  628 
and  689.  He  became  a  monk  and  founded  the  famous 
monastery  of  Jarrow  at  Wearmouth.  There  he  edu 
cated  to  become  his  successor,  the  cleric  known  as  the 
Venerable  Bede,  who  also  tells  of  his  friend  the  Abbot 
as  having  made  many  journeys  to  Rome  and  as  bringing 
back  with  him  not  only  artificers  in  glass  from  Venice,  but 
also  "  John,  precentor  of  the  church  of  St.  Peter  the 
Apostle,  to  Britain  to  teach  his  monks  the  course  of 
chanting  throughout  the  year." 

I  like  to  think  that  I  bear  the  name  of  a  family  to  which 
is  thus  directly  due  the  introduction  into  England  of  the 
earliest  examples  of  its  superb  cathedral  glass,  and  the 
introduction,  too,  of  the  noble  Gregorian  strains  which 
afford  so  precious  a  basis  for  its  ecclesiastical  music. 

Thirty  miles  north  of  Liverpool  and  a  few  miles  west 
of  the  smoky  town  of  Wigan  stands  ancient  Bispham 
Hall,  from  whose  precincts,  it  is  traditional  in  the 
American  branch  of  the  family,  the  Bispham  men  shook 


INFANCY  AND  ORIGINS  11 

the  dust  of  their  feet  after  having  turned  Quaker,  in  order 
to  cast  in  their  lot  with  William  Penn  and  their  fellow 
colonists  of  like  belief  and  aid  him  in  the  foundation  of 
the  new  Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania  near  the  end 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  a  thousand  years  after  the 
days  of  Biscop  and  Bede.  The  family  name  has,  from 
the  time  of  its  earliest  recordings  in  church  registers  and 
upon  legal  documents,  been  subject  to  a  variety  of  spell 
ings,  natural  enough  when  phonetics  were  the  rule,  and 
from  the  Biscopham  of  the  Domesday  Book  came 
Biscopem  and  Biscopeym,  finally  settling  into  Bispham, 
pronounced  Bispam,  as  indeed  it  was  often  to  be  found 
written  in  England.  From  this  came  Bispame,  Bispen, 
and  Bispin. 

With  the  departure  of  the  original  Quakers  from  their 
mother  country  to  Philadelphia  came  a  further  gradual 
exodus  of  the  clan  to  Boston,  Virginia,  and  the  West 
Indies.  Indeed  I  have  found  representatives  of  the 
ancient  name  all  over  the  United  States  and  in  Aus 
tralia.  But  few  remain  in  England,  and  those  are  in 
Lancashire  about  the  villages  and  ancient  Hall  of  the 
name,  or  in  the  Lake  District  to  the  north.  Besides  my 
own  but  one  other  Bispham  was  for  many  years  to  be 
found  in  the  London  Directory,  and  I  have  never  seen  it 
among  the  lists  of  any  choral  body  with  which  I  sung 
during  the  whole  of  the  time  I  assisted  at  festivals  in 
England. 

In  America  my  patronymic  began  to  be  spelled  Bis- 
phame,  Bisphan,  Bisphen,  lBisphain,  and  Bisfan,  and  was 
often  not  only  written  but  spoken  as  Bis f am,  the  let 
ters  p  and  h  being  mistaken  as  intending  the  sound  of  /. 
The  correct  pronunciation  is  Bis-pam,  the  h  being  silent. 
Although  I  have  been  addressed  as  Mr.  Bispum,  which  is 


12         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

not  so  far  away  in  sound,  I  am  more  often  called  Bisham, 
which  is  not  at  all  correct.  There  is  an  old  house  on  the 
Thames  known  as  Bisham  Abbey,  but  no  one  in  the 
mother  country  confuses  the  two  names,  or  mispro 
nounces  my  patronymic.  Sometimes  it  is  written  in  the 
United  States  as  Bicham,  Bishham,  Bishamp,  Bishpban, 
and  Bishpham,  the  last  being  rather  an  ordinary  mis 
conception  of  the  name. 

I  have  kept  many  letters,  telegrams,  and  the  like,  from 
which  the  following  examples  will  show  that  the  elder 
Mr.  Weller's  advice  has  been  adopted  and  my  surname 
set  down  "  according  to  the  taste  and  fancy  of  the 
speller."  What  an  iniquity  to  manufacture  out  of  seven 
simple  letters  such  contortions  as  these ! —  Beechman, 
Bisparn,  Besphain,  Besphourm,  Besthon,  Biftham, 
Bipham,  Biskham,  and  Biscamb.  Others  have  con 
tributed  Bistam,  Bisthiam,  Bixham;  with  Bisthan, 
Bispthan,  Bispthane,  Bisplain,  and  Bisplian.  One  of  my 
friends,  who  should  have  known  better,  could  never  get 
her  tongue  untwisted  from  Bipsham.  I  have  been  de 
scribed  on  my  own  program  as  Mr.  Dispham,  and 
from  being  called  "  a  household  word  "  my  poor  cog 
nomen  has  degenerated  at  times  to  a  state  perilously 
near  that  of  a  household  utensil,  as  in  Dispam  and 
Dishchanf 

The  name  of  my  mother's  family,  Scull,  or  Skull,  possi 
bly  derived  from  the  Norse  skald,  a  herald  or  crier,  is 
also  of  great  antiquity,  and  belongs  to  the  west  of  Eng 
land,  near  the  Welsh  border.  The  first  of  the  name  to 
come  to  America  was  the  Quaker,  Nicholas  Skull,  who  be 
came  William  Penn's  surveyor  and  made  the  first  map  of 
Philadelphia.  On  the  maternal  side  I  am  proud  of  be 
ing  descended  from  a  long  line  of  Norman  ancestors,  as 


V1TAM  IMPENDERE  VERO 


Coat  of  Arms  of  the  Scull  Family 


i4         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

set  forth  in  the  annals  of  the  Order  of  Runnymede,  com 
prising  nine  of  the  signers  of  Magna  Charta,  viz: — 
Roger  and  Hugh  Bigod,  Henry  de  Bohun,  Richard  and 
Gilbert  de  Clare,  John  de  Lacie,  William  de  Mowbray, 
Saher  de  Quincey,  and  Robert  de  Vere.  Good  American 
as  I  am,  I  see  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  in  such  re 
searches  or  in  their  results,  agreeing  with  the  old  writer 
who  said :  "  No  man  despiseth  family  save  him  who  hath 
it  not,  or  is  unduly  proud  thereof  who  hath  aught  else  to 
be  proud  of." 

My  mother  never  permitted  -a  piano  in  her  house, 
though  she  was  not  unmoved  by  the  "  concord  of  sweet 
sounds,"  and  eventually  accepted  a  cabinet  organ  as  a 
gift  from  my  father.  I  fancy  he  felt  in  me  the  beginnings 
of  something  like  an  accompanist  for  the  strains  of  his 
flute,  and  so  it  turned  out,  for  I  soon  began  to  pick  out 
the  harmonies  with  which  my  soul  was  filled,  but  of  whose 
devious  ways  along  the  keys  my  fingers  were  ignorant. 

Though  my  own  home  was  so  largely  unblest  by  the 
music  which  my  mother's  faith  forbade  her  to  enjoy,  I 
found  what  I  craved  as  I  grew  older  in  the  house  of  my 
grandfather,  Samuel  Bispham,  at  No.  263,  North  Sixth 
Street,  opposite  Franklin  Square.  The  good  Samuel  and 
his  wife  Maria,  who  was  one  of  the  Stokes  clan,  came 
of  less  strait-laced  stock  than  the  Sculls  and  Lippincotts, 
and  a  piano  with  music  was  to  be  found  there,  not  of  a 
high  order,  to  be  sure,  but  of  a  healthy  sort.  The  nu 
merous  grandchildren  were  welcome  in  the  house,  which 
was  a  second  home  to  us.  Grandfather  himself  used  to 
troll  many  a  lusty  English  ditty,  and  sang  to  us  every 
Christmas  Day  until  he  had  passed  eighty,  and  I  in  the 
home  circle  there  first  lifted  up  my  voice  in  song. 


CHATTER  II 

THE   YOUNG   IDEA 
What  will  a  child  learn  sooner  than  a  song?  —  Pope. 

THE  little  red-headed  fellow  of  eight  went  from  the 
big  city  and  the  quiet  Friends'  School  at  Twelfth  and 
Chestnut  streets,  from  the  constant  and  almost  sole  com 
panionship  of  his  dear  mother,  to  live  in  the  country  at 
Moorestown,  and  meet  a  larger  circle  of  acquaintances. 

An  English  journalist,  writing  a  few  years  ago  for  a 
London  paper  upon  American  cities,  described  Phil' 
adelphia  as  a  city  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware  River 
"  opposite  Camden."  Yet,  as  an  American  writer  said  of 
Edmund  Gosse's  visit  to  the  United  States,  he,  the  fas 
tidious  critic  and  friend  of  the  living  world's  great  litte- 
rati,  upon  being  summoned  by  a  penciled  post  card  to  call 
upon  Walt  Whitman,  proceeded  to  Camden,  the  last 
town  in  the  world,  made  his  way  to  the  last  street  in  the 
town,  and  to  the  last  house  in  the  street  and  there  found 
in  the  American  Sage  one  whom  he  was  fain  to  call  the 
greatest  man  he  had  ever  met ! 

As  Mark  Twain  called  a  girl's  red  hair  "  Skaneateles 
color,  because  it  was  ten  miles  from  Auburn,"  so  Moores 
town  was  ten  miles  from  Camden.  All  around  that  coun 
tryside  were  fine  sturdy  descendants  of  British  yeomen. 
They  did  not  mingle  with  the  world,  these  Quaker  folk, 
for  they  seldom  married  out  of  Meeting,  and  many  of 
them  had  never  been  to  Philadelphia  at  all  until  the  rail 
road  was  put  through;  then  the  old  village  with  its  Main 
Street  lined  with  noble  trees  began  rapidly  to  change. 

15 


16         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

At  first  we  lived  at  Mrs.  Higbee's  house  at  the  far 
end  of  the  long  street,  and  there  began  to  come  to  me  one 
by  one  the  experiences  of  life.  At  Mrs.  Higbee's  there 
was  an  antique  piano  that  stood  harp-like  against  the 
wall;  sitting  by  Miss  Beulah's  side  at  it,  "  turning  over  " 
for  her  as  she  played,  I  gained  my  first  idea  of  musical 
notation. 

But  "  Miss  Lill "  was  my  favorite  among  the  girls. 
She  was  the  widow  of  a  gallant  officer  in  the  Civil  War, 
Major  Morris,  who  had  escaped  all  harm  during  many 
campaigns,  only  to  die  of  heart  disease  as  he  stood  lean 
ing  against  the  fence  at  home  after  the  war  was  over. 
I  was  much  impressed  by  this  and  never  have  ceased  to 
feel  keen  sorrow  for  that  pretty  young  widow  who  was 
my  teacher  at  her  mother's  house  while  we  lived  there. 

Nor  shall  I  forget  the  readings,  "  Woodman,  spare 
that  tree,"  "  Excelsior,"  and  the  like,  with  which  she  led 
my  young  mind  to  a  knowledge  of  polite  literature  and 
belles  lettres.  Though  I  could  not  remember  the  rules 
of  grammar  she  sought  to  instill  into  me,  I  possess  to  this 
day  the  very  "  Student's  Companion  "  she  gave  me,  and 
often  think  of  the  numerous  English  words  of  Latin  der 
ivation  with  which  I  became  acquainted  in  that  truly 
admirable  compendium  of  useful  knowledge. 

Then  came  a  home  of  our  own  and  a  real  school  for 
me.  I  was  a  willful  lad,  and  after  a  while  was  placed 
with  Bartram  Kaighn,  an  aged  man  who  had  been  my 
father's  teacher  when  he  was  a  boy  in  Philadelphia,  and 
had  prepared  him  for  Princeton.  As  fate  would  have  it 
this  worthy  Friend  moved  to  Moorestown,  and  I  was  sent 
to  my  father's  preceptor,  who  struggled  manfully  to  in 
still  into  me  a  few  of  the  many  things  he  knew.  Though 
fond  of  me,  he  often  punished  me,  and  I  have  always 
marveled  at  his  patience,  rattle-brained  as  I  was.  He 


THE  YOUNG  IDEA  17 

prepared  me  for  Haverford  College,  of  which  institution 
my  grandfather  Scull  had  been  one  of  the  founders,  and 
there  my  mother's  brothers  had  all  been  educated.  I 
have  many  things  to  thank  Bartram  Kaighn  for  and  noth 
ing  to  regret  in  my  association  with  him,  except  circum 
stances  for  which  I  alone  was  to  blame. 

As  a  boy  I  was,  in  many  respects,  a  shy  youngster ;  in 
deed,  appearances  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  I  am 
shy  still.  Circumstances  alone  have  forced  me  to  appear 
to  have  a  virtue  which  I  do  not  possess,  the  assumption 
of  which  has  caused  many  to  think  me  a  calm  man  in  the 
presence  of  the  public  or  elsewhere. 

My  first  lessons  in  French  were  with  Bartram  Kaighn. 
I  had  heard  other  boys  speaking  their  lessons  before  I  be 
gan  to  study  the  language,  and  with  my  quick  ear  I  caught 
the  correct  pronunciation  at  once.  But  when  first  called 
upon  by  Mr.  Kaighn  to  read  a  paragraph  from  "  Tele- 
maque,"  my  diffidence  so  overcame  me  that  instead  of 
pronouncing  as  I  knew  I  should,  I  read  the  passages  as  if 
they  were  so  many  English  words,  realizing  full  well  that 
I  was  condemning  myself  in  the  eyes  of  my  master. 
Upon  the  conclusion  of  my  efforts,  he  wearily  said,  "  That 
will  do,  David;  it  is  as  well  as  I  could  have  expected  of 
thee." 

At  that  moment  my  British  blood  had  spoken  and 
whatever  kinship  I  may  have  with  the  French  was  in 
abeyance,  hiding  its  diminished  head  in  the  corner  to 
which  I  expected  Bartram  to  remand  me  as  a  punish 
ment;  for  in  his  school  the  stool,  the  corner,  and  the 
fool's  cap  were  still  institutions,  dating  back  to  the  time 
of  the  whipping  post  and  stocks  which  my  father  re 
membered  well  as  existent  at  Moorestown  in  his  boy- 
JiooA 


i8         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

I  have  always  been  ashamed  of  this  first  attempt  at 
pronouncing  French.  My  ability  to  pronounce  the  for 
eign  tongues  in  which  I  have  been  compelled  to  sing  has 
been  of  the  greatest  service  to  me.  It  goes  without  say 
ing  that  I  have  a  full  knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  all 
that  I  sing  in  other  languages,  but  I  cannot  sail  far  upon 
the  sea  of  philology  without  fear  of  foundering,  my 
vocabulary  being  limited  to  the  words  which  will  supply 
me  with  the  necessaries  of  life,  the  conventions  of  con 
versation,  or  the  language  of  song. 

All  the  book  learning  I  knew  good  Bartram  Kaighn 
made  sufficiently  available  to  enable  me  to  pass  the  pre 
liminary  college  examinations,  and  I  went  from  Moores- 
town  gayly  enough.  I  remember,  however,  being  home 
sick  and  longing  for  the  companionship  of  that  dear 
mother  whose  only  child  I  was.  For  a  day,  or  maybe 
two  days,  I  thought  I  should  not  be  able  to  endure  the 
anguish  of  separation.  With  all  my  high  spirits,  I  was 
at  first  as  lonely  as  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret.  All  the  boys 
seemed  to  walk  about  on  their  toes  and  look  at  me  as 
dogs  do  when  they  are  getting  acquainted. 

Fortunately  for  me,  however,  I  found  at  Haverford 
some  of  my  old  schoolmates  and  some  of  my  cousins  be 
sides,  so  I  was  not  altogether  alone.  By  these  I  was  soon 
introduced  to  others  with  whom  I  formed  life-long  friend 
ships,  though  none  of  a  musical  nature. 

Scholastic  work  was  immediately  entered  upon  and 
was  composed  of  a  curriculum  dignified  in  its  simplicity, 
but  noted  then,  as  ever  since,  for  its  thoroughness  and 
high  objective. 

During  my  time  at  Haverford  my  deficiency  in  mathe 
matics  was  noticeable,  though  for  a  period  I  had  a  good 
enough  will  and  memory  to  advance  even  as  far  as  the 


THE  YOUNG  IDEA  19 

study  of  trigonometry,  conic  sections,  astronomy,  and  dear 
knows  what ! —  all  things  that  I  dislike  to  remember. 
Finally  I  was  given  my  choice  between  mathematics  and 
the  study  of  German,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  was  wise 
enough  to  take  up  the  latter.  It  subsequently  proved  to 
be  of  the  greatest  use  in  my  operatic  career. 

At  college  our  principal  game  was  cricket,  and  Haver- 
ford  had  the  finest  team  among  American  colleges,  its 
reputation  being  kept  up  to  the  present  day  through  the 
efforts  of  my  kinsman,  Henry  Cope,  who  for  years  took 
an  eleven  to  England  to  play  with  the  schools  and  col 
leges  there.  Though  I  constantly  played  cricket  I  was 
not  a  good  player.  I  could  bowl  fairly  well,  but  some 
how  or  other  my  opponent  always  bowled  better  than  I 
and,  as  the  ball  had  a  way  of  getting  under  my  bat  and 
knocking  down  my  wicket,  despite  my  best  efforts  to  pre 
vent  it  from  doing  so,  I  was  not  given  a  place  upon  the 
first  eleven  and  I  fear  but  feebly  adorned  the  ranks  of 
the  second. 

I  suppose  the  ways  of  boys  at  Haverford  were  just 
the  same  as  boys  of  any  other  school  and  I  do  not  re 
member  that  any  one  indulged  particularly  in  things  that 
he  should  not  have  done,  though  perhaps  owing  to  the 
strict  rule  of  the  Quakers  we  were  not  permitted  to  do 
many  things  which  we  might  otherwise  have  done  with 
perfect  propriety.  We  all  had  to  go  to  meeting  on 
Sunday,  "  First  Day,"  as  they  call  it,  and  to  the  mid 
week  meeting  on  "  Fourth  Day."  We  assembled  out 
side  the  college  on  these  occasions  and  marched,  the 
Seniors  first,  the  Juniors  second,  and  the  Sophomores  and 
Freshmen  bringing  up  the  rear,  solemnly  along  the  little 
boardwalk  across  the  bridge  which  spans  the  cut  through 
which  used  to  run  the  old  Pennsylvania  Railway  trains. 


20         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Into  the  little  Friends'  meeting  we  filed,  all  sitting  in 
silence  the  greater  part  of  the  time,  though  among  the 
professors  there  were  several  admirable  occasional  speak 
ers. 

At  Haverford  there  were  sometimes  mock  trials  and 
the  like,  taking  the  place  of  stage  plays.  In  these  I 
participated  with  the  rest,  and  look  back  upon  the  eve 
nings  thus  spent  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure;  but  the 
meetings  of  the  quasi-secret  society  I  joined  I  recollect 
with  greater  interest,  for  at  some  of  these  I  made  my  first 
efforts  at  declaiming  from  Shakespeare  such  selections 
as  Hamlet's  Soliloquy,  the  speeches  of  Brutus  and  of 
Mark  Antony  or  the  quarrel  scene  from  "  Julius  Caesar  " 
and  The  Seven  Ages  of  Man. 

I  remember  vividly  my  first  hurt  from  criticism,  for  one 
of  my  friends  took  me  off  admirably,  both  in  manner  of 
delivery  and  in  style  of  gesture.  I  have  thought  of  this 
travesty  upon  myself  hundreds  of  times  since  and  have 
felt  grateful  to  have  been  so  early  shown  how  I  sounded 
and  appeared  to  others. 

I  left  Haverford  College  at  last  after  much  anguish  in 
cramming  for  my  final  examinations,  for  I  was  ever  some 
thing  of  a  dullard  at  study,  and  I  thanked  my  lucky  stars 
that  I  should  never  again  have  any  examinations  to  pass, 
little  dreaming  that  before  long  I  would  find  myself  on 
the  way  leading  to  constant  examinations  before  the 
greatest  tribunal  imaginable,  namely,  the  great  public. 

That  summer  of  1876,  when  I  went  back  to  Moores- 
town  after  a  little  travel  with  young  companions,  seeing 
such  native  beauty  as  the  Hudson  and  Niagara,  I  had  to 
face  the  question  of  what  to  do  with  myself.  My  par 
ents  being  of  moderate  means  it  was,  of  course,  necessary 


THE  YOUNG  IDEA  21 

that  I  should  work  for  my  living.  As  I  had  friends  who 
were  physicians,  I  thought  I  should  like  to  become  a  doc 
tor,  and  therefore  visited  hospitals  with  my  acquaintances, 
went  through  dissecting  rooms,  and  was  present  at  clinics 
and  operations  performed  upon  those  suffering  from  acci 
dents.  The  experience  of  the  hospitals  was  not  easy,  and 
that  of  the  dissecting  room  certainly  gruesome;  yet  be 
fore  long  my  nostrils  became  accustomed  to  the  peculiar 
odor  of  the  dissecting  room;  but  I  could  not  stand  seeing 
operations  performed  upon  mangled  humanity,  brought 
into  the  theatre  of  the  hospital  for  treatment  before  the 
students.  I  was  carried  fainting  from  the  place  on  more 
than  one  occasion,  to  the  amusement  of  those  who  had 
already  become  hardened  to  the  work  of  mercy.  It  was 
therefore  presently  decided  that  I  had  better  go  into  the 
wool  business  of  my  uncle  David  Scull,  founded  by  his 
father  many  years  before. 

And  so,  at  $4  a  week,  I  was  put  to  learning  the  wool 
trade,  and  spent  seven  years  in  that  establishment  at  No. 
125,  Market  Street,  occupied  with  the  intricacies  of  my 
business,  both  in  the  office  and  in  the  warehouse  among 
the  workmen  and  the  bales  and  fleeces  of  wool. 

One  morning  my  uncle  David  called  me  into  the  office 
and  said  that  he  was  considering  going  abroad  and  wanted 
my  mother  and  me  to  go  with  him;  and  so  early  in  1878 
I  had  the  good  fortune  to  take  this  trip. 

Eight  months  in  Europe  to  a  youth  of  twenty-one  is  no 
light  matter,  and  I  look  back  upon  it  as  being  in  reality 
the  beginning  of  my  education,  for  then  only  was  I  able 
to  comprehend  the  value  of  what  I  had  learned  at  school 
and  college  and  be  thankful  that  it  was  an  education 
classical  in  character.  Few  young  men  had  then  been 


22         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

given  the  opportunity  to  leave  Quaker  Philadelphia  and 
see  Europe  under  conditions  as  favorable  as  those  I  en 
joyed. 

We  landed  in  Liverpool  and  I  well  remember  seeing 
in  the  Mersey  River  that  gigantic  steamship,  the  Great 
Eastern,  which  had  long  been  used  in  laying  ocean  cables. 
Indeed  I  had  the  opportunity  of  going  aboard  of  her  be 
fore  she  was  broken  up  and  of  seeing  the  tanks  in  which 
the  cable  had  been  coiled,  but  which  were  then  devoted  to 
the  base  uses  of  circus  rings  and  of  what  is  nowadays 
called  Vaudeville. 

Great  was  my  delight  to  discover  in  the  cloister  of  Ches 
ter  Cathedral  the  gravestones  of  monks  bearing  the  name 
of  Bispham.  Upon  climbing  into  the  belfry  tower  I 
found  that  the  oldest  and  largest  bell  in  the  chime  had 
been  given  it  by  one  William  Bispham  centuries  before, 
as  evidenced  by  the  Latin  inscription  running  around  the 
lip  of  the  bell.  Near  the  Lady  Chapel  of  the  Cathedral 
is  also  a  memorial  tablet  set  into  the  wall  bearing  the 
name  of  William  Bispham,  another  member  of  the  fam 
ily,  who  was  born  in  1597.  This  was  restored  in  1888 
by  my  kinsman,  William  Bispham  of  New  York. 

Fascinating  it  was  to  me  to  visit  Bispham  Hall,  that 
ancient  home  of  my  people  in  Lancashire,  a  land  that  had 
been  the  cradle  of  my  race.  Nowhere  in  the  world  could 
a  youth  have  more  thrust  upon  his  receptive  mind  than 
during  an  intelligent  visit  to  England,  where  we  saw  most 
of  the  celebrated  abbeys,  castles,  and  ancient  cities,  many 
of  which  I  was  afterward  to  know  so  well  through  jour 
neys  taken  as  a  professional  singer  during  my  several 
years'  residence  in  England. 

On  our  way  from  London  and  Paris  to  Italy,  we  vis 
ited  Switzerland,  where  occurred  an  incident  I  shall  never 


THE  YOUNG  IDEA  23 

forget,  which  was  vividly  recalled  to  my  mind  by  events 
in  the  late  war,  when  our  party,  having  arrived  in  the 
little  railway  station  on  the  way  to  Zermatt,  left  the  train 
in  order  to  take  horses  which  had  been  ordered  for  us 
and  which  we  found  waiting. 

Having  arranged  my  mother's  traveling  pack  upon  the 
saddle  of  her  horse  behind  the  station,  and  all  being  ready 
for  our  party  to  go  up  the  valley,  I  left  the  animal  and 
went  into  the  station  for  my  mother;  but  what  was  my 
surprise  on  returning  to  find  a  large  military  German 
calmly  mounting  my  mother's  horse  —  furnished  with 
a  sidesaddle,  by  the  way  —  and  riding  off  upon  the  an 
imal,  from  whose  back  he  had  taken  my  mother's  travel 
ing  pack  and  thrown  it  upon  the  ground.  Of  course,  all 
my  protests  were  unavailing.  The  horseman  paid  not 
the  slightest  heed  to  me  or  to  the  objections  of  our  party; 
but  went  on  his  way  with  such  rejoicing  as  he  may  have 
had  in  his  inward  heart,  followed  as  he  was  by  some  good 
Anglo-Saxon  talk,  which  I  have  no  doubt  he  understood 
perfectly  well.  The  rigidity  of  his  back  as  he  rode  off 
forced  me  to  think  that  he  was  bracing  himself  against 
something  which  was  hitting  him  hard. 

I  was  afterward  to  come  into  contact  with  a  good  many 
such  persons  in  the  course  of  my  professional  career,  and 
I  have  always  found  it  interesting  to  speculate  upon  the 
reasons  that  cause  clever  men  who  ought  to  know  better 
to  do  so  many  obviously  disagreeable  things.  However, 
that  is  the  way  of  some  people,  I  suppose.  Breeds  of 
men  have  their  manners  and  customs,  just  as  breeds  of 
dogs  have  theirs. 

From  Switzerland  our  little  party  went  down  among 
the  Italian  lakes,  and  thence  through  Verona  to  Venice 
and  on  through  other  ancient  Italian  cities  to  Florence, 


24         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

where  I  was  afterward  to  live  for  some  time,  and  so  to 
Rome. 

Beyond  the  singing  of  popular  songs  by  street  musicians 
and  by  gondoliers  on  the  canals  of  Venice,  I  heard  little 
music  during  my  early  visits  to  the  Land  of  Song.  I 
did  go  once  to  the  Costanzi  Theatre  in  Rome  to  hear 
Verdi's  opera  "  Don  Carlos,"  too  seldom  given  nowadays, 
and  for  reasons  I  cannot  make  out.  Verdi  was  identi 
fied  in  his  younger  days  with  the  cause  of  Italian  unity, 
and  his  very  name  was  used  as  a  rallying  cry,  its  letters 
standing  for  the  patriotic  toast,  "  Vittorio  Emanuele  Re 
D'ltalia,"  V-E-R-D-I!  But  this,  and  the  political  opin 
ions  expressed  in  "  Don  Carlos,"  should  have  no  influence 
on  the  public  to-day.  The  eminent  composer  was  fond 
of  this  opera,  issuing  a  second  and  even  a  third  edition 
of  it,  each  time  with  considerable  changes  which  make 
it  all  the  better  as  a  work  of  art. 

In  Roman  churches  I  also  heard  on  festivals  the  voices 
of  male  singers  who  had  been  in  the  Pope's  choir  at  St. 
Peter's,  which  had  been  dispersed  among  the  other 
churches  some  time  before,  where  they  were  to  be  heard 
by  an  admiring  public,  that  would  actually  applaud  well- 
rendered  selections  in  the  masses  as  if  they  had  been  given 
in  the  concert  room.  This  seems  strange  to  us  of  to 
day,  but  the  period  of  which  I  speak  is  now  recognized 
as  having  been  one  in  which  the  music  of  the  Roman 
Church  reached  almost  its  deepest  debasement.  It  was 
the  time  when  the  organist  would  play  such  pieces  as  the 
"  Brindisi  "  from  "  Lucrezia  Borgia  "  or  "  La  donna  e 
mobile  "  from  "  Rigoletto  "  at  the  elevation  of  the  Host. 

When  in  Rome,  my  uncle  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to 
Athens,  where  I  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  Greek  thea 
tres,  cut  into  the  slopes  of  the  Acropolis.  Fortunately 


THE  YOUNG  IDEA  25 

I  had  read  Greek  tragedies  in  college,  and  so  vividly  did 
their  stories  return  to  me  when  treading  the  stone  plat 
forms  from  which  they  were  originally  delivered,  that 
my  natural  love  for  the  stage  was  greatly  enhanced. 
Perhaps  without  knowing  it  I  inwardly  resolved  to  be 
come  an  actor,  or  a  singer;  perhaps  both.  At  any  rate  I 
felt  called  to  express  myself  before  the  public  in  the  high- 
sounding  vocal  phrases  that  I  loved  so  well.  Strange  to 
say,  the  experiences  of  those  days  in  Athens  so  power 
fully  affected  my  mind  that  my  endeavors  toward  the 
foundation  and  maintenance  of  a  Classic  Theatre  resulted 
after  many  years  in  the  building  of  what  is  known  as  the 
Greek  Theatre  at  the  University  of  California  in  Berke 
ley. 

I  had  abundant  opportunity  when  in  Constantinople  of 
hearing  the  Turkish  music  which  so  unpleasantly  assails 
the  ear  in  the  bazaars,  clanging  instruments  and  high- 
pitched  voices  uttering  tuneless  phrases.  It  was  indeed 
strange  enough,  but  it  gave  me  no  pleasure  whatever,  and 
I  was  glad  to  leave  early  such  entertainment  as  I  had 
attended. 

Of  what  Europe  calls  music  there  is  next  to  nothing 
in  the  Mohammedan  religion,  and  I  found  none  when 
I  attended  the  service  of  the  Dancing  Dervishes.  Yet 
their  worship  is  intended  to  be  a  praise  of  God,  by  means 
of  such  long-continued  gyrations  as  would  put  almost  any 
athlete  to  shame. 

Great  was  my  surprise  when  those  simple,  almost 
Quakerish-looking,  men  arose  from  "  facing  the  meeting," 
exactly  as  at  home  in  Philadelphia,  and  started  slowly  to 
twirl  on  their  toes  about  the  previously  empty  floor  space 
between  them  and  the  congregation.  Fast  and  faster 
they  turned  until  their  gray  and  Friendly  coat-tails  stood 


26         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

out  from  their  bodies  at  right  angles,  for  all  the  world 
like  ballet  dancers'  skirts;  and,  as  their  motion  gradually 
subsided,  the  coat-tails  assumed  a  more  seemly  angle  and 
finally  hung  down  as  circumspectly  as  any  well-behaved 
coat-tails  should  do.  No  expression  whatever  appeared 
upon  the  stolid  countenances  of  the  worshipers,  who 
seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  the  length  of  their  chor- 
egraphic  exertions. 

If  the  service  of  the  Dancing  Dervishes  is  as  barren 
of  music  and  as  silent  as  a  Quaker  Meeting,  the  experi 
ence  that  I  had  of  the  Howling  Dervishes  was  quite  the 
reverse.  It  was  indeed  more  than  barbaric;  it  was  sav 
age  in  its  intensity.  From  a  latticed  balcony  we  looked 
down  upon  a  rather  large  room,  the  floor  of  which  was 
bare;  in  the  corner  was  a  raised  throne  upon  which  sat 
one  who  was  evidently  a  dignitary  of  the  sect.  Around 
the  room  ran  low  divans  upon  which  were  seated  the  wor 
shipers,  young,  old,  and  middle-aged,  white,  black,  and 
tawny.  These,  excited  by  the  beating  of  drums  and  the 
sounds  of  a  strange  chant,  and  urged  on  by  a  leader  who 
arose  and  went  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  finally  stood  in 
line  with  him  and  went  through  extreme  physical  contor 
tions,  loudly  chanting  the  while.  One  great  black  eunuch 
in  particular  I  shall  never  forget,  a  giant  in  physique,  who 
outdid  all  competitors;  yet  ultimately  puffing  and  sweat 
ing,  he  was  himself  led  from  the  room  rejoicing  in  the 
strength  that  enabled  him  so  to  assail  Heaven  with  his 
cries,  and  to  dance  before  the  Lord  in  pious  orgies. 

I  looked  forward  to  the  autumn  of  that  year  with  any 
thing  but  pleasure,  for  I  knew  that  it  would  take  me  back 
again  to  the  warehouse  and  office  of  my  good  uncle;  but 
I  shook  from  my  mind  all  such  unpleasant  thoughts  as 
wool  fleeces  and  wool  bales,  and  buying  and  selling  that 


THE  YOUNG  IDEA  27 

oily  but  necessary  commodity,  and  gave  myself  up  to  the 
enjoyment  of  the  hour.  It  is  better  for  us  all  not  to 
cross  bridges  until  we  come  to  them,  but  at  last  I  found 
my  way  back  by  way  of  Marseilles  and  gay  Paris  to 
smoky  London,  and  thus  home  to  what  Benjamin  Frank 
lin  called  "  my  dear  Philadelphia." 


CHAPTER  III 

MUSIC'S   GOLDEN   TONGUE 

There  is  no  truer  truth  obtainable 
By  man,  than  comes  of  music. 
—  Robert  Browning. 

DESIRE  to  enter  upon  a  musical  career  came  to  me,  I 
am  sure,  through  the  influence  of  the  music  I  heard  in 
the  Episcopal  Church  at  Moorestown,  where  now  and 
then  I  went  with  my  father,  who  sang  occasionally  in  the 
little  choir.  The  majesty  of  the  pealing  organ,  played 
by  my  grand-aunt  Emma  Stokes,  the  choir  behind  the 
green  baize  curtains  of  the  organ  loft,  the  dignity  of 
Doctor  Weld  with  his  black  gown  and  snowy  sleeves,  all 
so  far  removed  from  the  simplicity  of  Friends'  Meeting, 
wrought  mightily  upon  my  mind.  Yet  High  Church 
practices  were  little  known  about  Philadelphia,  and  I 
did  not  then  dream  of  St.  Mark's  and  my  future  partici 
pation  in  services  which  might  have  been  Roman  Catholic, 
for  all  the  difference  apparent  to  a  casual  observer. 

My  uncle  John  Bispham  had  given  me  a  zither,  on 
which  I  had  lessons  from  a  German  "  professor,"  by  oc 
cupation  a  saloon-keeper.  I  had  also  a  few  lessons  on 
the  guitar  from  a  woman,  and  I  learned  to  strum  on  the 
banjo  from  my  pal  Will  Chamberlain,  who  had  given  me 
some  notion  of  chords  on  the  piano.  His  parents  were 
not  Quakers;  not  they!  —  and  under  their  hospitable 
roof  my  youthful  eyes  and  ears  were  opened  to  many 
things  which  the  larger  world  smiles  upon.  My  mother, 


MUSIC'S  GOLDEN  TONGUE  29 

I  am  sure,  thought  all  music  a  wile  of  the  Evil  One,  the 
stage  a  snare  for  every  foot,  old  or  young,  and  the  com 
bination,  as  in  opera,  something  too  appalling  to  con 
template.  She  had  once  been  to  an  opera,  and  the  bal 
let  shocked  her  beyond  expression! 

Yet  even  as  a  boy  I  could  not  believe  there  was  essen 
tial  wrong  in  either  music  or  the  drama ;  the  only  wrong 
lay  in  their  debasement,  their  unworthy  presentation  or 
immoderate  and  inconsiderate  use.  In  this  last  respect 
I  am  in  entire  agreement  with  Fox  and  the  early  Quakers, 
who  formed  their  estimates  on  the  excesses  of  the  Res 
toration  Period. 

I  often  journeyed  from  Moorestown  to  Philadelphia 
on  Saturday,  to  hear  an  occasional  concert,  or  perhaps  to 
go  to  a  matinee  to  see  some  celebrated  actor  in  a  good 
play;  poor  music,  poor  plays,  and  poor  acting  I  held  in  as 
little  favor  then  as  I  do  now.  It  was  at  the  Academy  that 
my  delighted  ear  first  heard  "  Pat  "  Gilmore  and  his  band 
play  the  u  William  Tell "  overture  and  similar  pop 
ular  music.  Theodore  Thomas,  whom  I  was  afterward 
to  know  so  well  and  with  whom  I  was  to  sing  so  fre 
quently,  gave  me  my  first  acquaintance  with  the  sympho 
nies  of  Beethoven,  Schubert,  and  many  others.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  rhythm  in  the  beat  of  his  right  arm  or 
the  dignity  and  grace  of  the  movements  of  his  left  hand 
as  he  modulated  the  strains  of  his  orchestra. 

On  summer  evenings  in  Philadelphia  I  used  to  listen 
to  such  open-air  concerts  and  music  as  could  be  found  in 
those  days,  chiefly  in  the  German  districts  of  the  city, 
where  small  orchestras  were  to  be  heard  in  the  beer  gar 
dens.  It  was  in  one  of  these  that  I  first  heard  the  Hun 
garian  violinist,  Remenyi,  whose  acquaintance  I  sought. 
The  principal  piece  that  I  recall  he  played  was  a  Hun- 


3o         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

garian  gypsy  selection,  for  the  adaptation  of  which  he 
assumed  the  credit,  though  he  told  me  with  evident  vexa 
tion  that  a  man  named  Joachim  had  also  made  an  ar 
rangement  of  the  same  airs,  which  he  was  proclaiming 
all  over  Europe  as  the  only  genuine  one. 

At  another  concert  during  this  period  I  heard  the  fa 
mous  Ole  Bull,  the  diamond  in  the  end  of  whose  violin 
bow  still  flashes  in  my  mind's  eye.  I  recall  the  wizard's 
slender  figure  and  long  white  hair  and  his  somewhat  an 
tiquated  style  of  dress  coat  and  neckcloth.  Ever  since,  I 
have  rather  curiously  connected  this  vision  with  Paganini, 
his  world-renowned  predecessor. 

My  uncle  John  also  took  me  to  my  first  opera.  How 
I  loved  him  for  it!  We  heard  Clara  Louise  Kellogg, 
that  charming  lady  who  was  to  be  one  of  my  artistic 
friends  many  years  later,  sing  in  u  Martha  "  and  subse 
quently  in  other  parts.  I  shall  always  remember  the  ex 
quisite  silvery  tones  of  Joseph  Maas,  the  English  tenor 
whose  career  was  cut  short  all  too  soon  by  death.  The 
operas  sung  by  Miss  Kellogg's  company,  "  Mignon," 
"  The  Bohemian  Girl,"  "  Faust,"  and  kindred  works, 
were  done  in  our  good  English  language,  and  brought 
fame  to  all  concerned. 

I  also  became  well  acquainted  —  from  the  distance  of 
the  "peanut"  gallery  —  with  members  of  the  Richings- 
Bernard  opera  company,  and  I  heard  the  fascinating 
Zelda  Seguin  as  Carmen,  one  of  the  best  it  has  ever  been 
my  pleasure  to  hear,  and  Charles  Santley,  the  celebrated 
English  barytone,  in  "  Zampa."  Who  would  have 
thought  that  I  was  to  have  Zelda  Seguin  acting  with  me, 
and  be  privileged  to  sing  on  many  a  program  with 
Charles  Santley? 

During  my  years  in  college,  my  opportunities  for  ed- 


MUSIC'S  GOLDEN  TONGUE  31 

ucation  through  music  and  the  drama  were  largely  to  re 
main  outside  the  prescribed  curriculum.  Among  the  im 
pedimenta  which  I  took  from  Moorestown  to  Haverford 
was  my  beloved  zither,  which  I  played  upon  when  oc 
casion  offered  in  spare  moments.  I  had  not  counted  upon 
the  strict  authorities  at  Haverford  forbidding  such  harm 
less  music  as  was  made  upon  this  rather  primitive  instru 
ment;  but  to  my  great  chagrin  I  was  soon  informed  that 
music  was  against  the  rules,  and  that  if  I  must  needs  play 
at  all,  I  would  have  to  do  so  off  the  college  grounds.  I 
therefore  packed  my  zither  in  its  little  case  and  took  it 
over  to  the  Haverford  station  on  the  Pennsylvania  Rail 
way  where,  through  the  kindness  of  the  ticket  seller,  I 
was  enabled  to  keep  it,  and  where  I  went  daily  to  prac 
tice.  I  never  took  it  back  to  the  college.  Indeed  when 
I  began  to  hear  something  of  other  music  I  deemed  prac 
tice  upon  it  almost  a  waste  of  time,  it  was  so  limited  in 
its  scope ;  though  for  social  occasions  I  was  not  unwilling 
to  show  my  skill  and  perform  such  selections  as  I  knew 
at  sociables,  Sunday-school  concerts,  and  the  like,  during 
the  holidays  when  I  was  entertaining  and  being  enter 
tained  among  my  young  friends. 

The  scarcity  of  musical  opportunities  naturally  tended 
to  cause  me  to  seek  elsewhere  that  diversion  which  my 
nature  so  craved.  As  naturally  as  a  duck  goes  to  the 
water,  I  endeavored  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  people 
who  were  musical.  I  was  advised  to  go  to  a  large  hall  in 
Vine  Street  where  there  was  a  stage  upon  which  a  variety 
performance  was  carried  on  during  the  evening,  when 
Teutonic  families  gathered  for  their  supper  and  beer,  and 
where  a  young  German  barytone  could  be  heard  singing 
to  his  own  accompaniment  at  the  piano. 

I  often  went  to  hear  this  singer,  Max  Heinrich  by 


32         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

name,  and  from  that  remarkable  artist  obtained  my  first 
introduction  to  the  greatest  song  writers  of  the  world: 
Schubert,  Schumann,  Mendelssohn,  Brahms,  while  pieces 
rendered  in  the  English  language  flashed  upon  my  ear, 
and  all  this  brought  a  message  new  and  strange  to  me.  I 
recognized  in  it  what  I  needed,  and  straightway  deter 
mined  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  this  Heinrich  and  to 
learn  from  him,  if  possible,  some  of  the  songs  which  I 
had  heard  him  sing.  This  led  me  into  contact  with  a 
great  artist,  from  whom  I  afterward  gleaned  a  knowl 
edge  of  many  things  of  value  to  me  in  my  profession, 
and  I  am  glad  to  say  that  Max  Heinrich  remained  my 
friend  until  the  day  of  his  death. 

He  told  me  about  his  early  career  —  he  was  only  a 
young  man  himself  at  the  time,  and  I  was  but  eighteen. 
He  said  he  had  had  an  opportunity  to  sing  in  the  Royal 
Opera  at  Berlin,  that  his  voice  had  been  brought  to  the 
attention  of  the  old  Emperor  William,  and  that  he  had 
received  a  command  to  go  and  sing  in  private  for  his 
Majesty.  He  confessed  to  me,  however,  that  when  the 
evening  arrived,  he,  having  pawned  his  dress  coat  and  be 
ing  unable  to  find  the  wherewithal  to  release  it,  was 
playing  billiards  with  some  companions  when  an  emis 
sary  came  from  the  Palace  looking  for  Heinrich,  and  ex 
citingly  demanding  his  attendance,  saying  that  the  Em 
peror  and  members  of  his  party  were  waiting  to  hear 
him.  Heinrich,  however,  declined  to  go,  as  he  was  not 
able  to  dress  for  the  occasion  —  indeed,  he  could  not 
be  admitted  in  his  ordinary  clothes  to  the  presence  of 
royalty  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  Palace.  And  so,  re 
gretfully  and  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  he  dismissed 
the  court  messenger.  But  he  said  to  me,  "  I  vas  a 
damned  fool,  as  usual." 


MUSIC'S  GOLDEN  TONGUE  33 

After  that,  Heinrich  told  me,  he  went  concertizing 
through  Germany;  made  a  little  money,  kept  some  of  it 
and,  after  wandering  with  Hungarian  gypsies,  he,  him 
self,  the  most  delightfully  wandering  of  all  the  wanderers, 
found  his  way  to  America  about  1873  and  deposited  what 
savings  he  had  in  the  bank  of  Jay  Cooke,  which  failed 
soon  after,  and  Heinrich  found  himself  stranded.  To 
keep  body  and  soul  together,  he  sang  in  the  beer  hall  of 
which  I  have  spoken. 

Not  long  after,  Heinrich  became  the  bass  soloist  in  the 
choir  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral  on  Logan  Square, 
where  the  organist  was  Michael  H.  Cross,  whom  I  after 
ward  knew  intimately  for  many  years,  and  who  told  me 
that  one  day  after  service  a  young  German  came  up  into 
the  organ  loft,  asking  "  Do  you  vant  a  singer?  "  Mr. 
Cross  said,  "  What  can  you  sing?  "  He  replied,  "  I  vill 
sing  at  sight  anything  you  gif  me."  Cross  handed  him  a 
difficult  barytone  solo  from  a  mass,  playing  the  accom 
paniment,  while  Heinrich  rendered  the  number  to  his 
entire  satisfaction,  obtaining  the  position  and  remaining 
at  the  cathedral  for  several  years. 

Fortunately  for  me,  there  came  to  live  at  Haverford 
one  Ellis  Yarnall  and  his  English  wife,  a  rare  couple  in 
deed,  whose  house  was  filled  with  books  and  pictures,  and 
whose  eldest  daughter  was  a  good  pianist  and  sang  nicely 
herself.  She  and  her  mother  introduced  me  to  old  Eng 
lish  songs,  in  which  I  at  once  began  to  revel.  I  have  used 
them  ever  since,  deeming  them  to  be  of  the  highest  qual 
ity  in  their  class  and  in  no  wise  inferior  to  music  of  other 
nations  merely  because  they  happen  to  be  in  the  English 
language  and  by  English  composers,  who,  strangely 
enough,  were  not  by  many  persons  considered  the  equals 
of  those  born  on  the  other  side  of  the  English  Channel. 


34         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

It  turned  out  that  I,  who  could  not  be  kept  away  from 
music,  and  vocal  music  in  particular,  influenced  the  young 
men  about  me  who,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  they 
were  of  Quaker  blood,  were  just  as  apt  to  enjoy  music 
and  to  sing  as  those  who  belonged  to  other  religious 
denominations.  A  little  glee  club  was  formed  before  I 
left  Haverford  and  it  was  but  a  short  time  after  my  grad 
uation  that  the  authorities,  some  of  the  elder  of  whom 
had  passed  away,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  musical  in 
struments  might  be  permitted  to  the  students,  who  at  once 
began  to  bring  guitars,  banjos,  and  mandolins  to  the  col 
lege,  to  the  good,  I  doubt  not,  of  every  one  of  the  student 
body;  though  music  was  not  taught  then  at  Haverford, 
nor  has  it  ever  become  part  of  the  curriculum. 

Years  later  I  was  privileged  to  give  at  my  Alma  Mater 
several  concerts,  which  were  partly  made  up  of  the  songs 
I  had  learned  from  Max  Heinrich  and  the  Yarnalls. 
These  concerts  were  largely  attended  and  were  the  first 
that  had  ever  been  heard  at  Haverford. 

In  that  early  part  of  my  experience  I  remember  well 
hearing  the  celebrated  Emma  Abbot  in  u  Paul  and  Vir 
ginia  "  and  one  or  two  other  things.  The  fact  that  she 
introduced  "  Home,  Sweet  Home  "  into  any  opera  at  her 
own  sweet  will  did  not  interfere  with  the  enjoyment  of 
her  performances  by  the  audiences  of  that  time;  indeed 
they  rather  looked  for  the  familiar  strains,  expecting 
them  before  they  wended  their  way  to  their  own  sweet 
homes. 

For  all  my  enjoyment  of  the  people  that  I  heard  in  my 
youth,  nothing  could  compare  with  the  real  thrill  that  I 
received  one  afternoon  when,  going  to  one  of  these  very 
performances,  I  heard  a  girl  singing  up  an  alley.  This 
unseen,  unknown  woman  had  indeed  a  God-given  voice. 


MUSIC'S  GOLDEN  TONGUE  35 

I  was  not  too  young  to  have  heard  Brignoli,  but  some 
how  I  never  did  hear  him,  though  my  father  often  spoke 
of  his  silvery  tones  and  of  his  clumsiness  upon  the  stage, 
where  his  gait  was  said  to  be  so  awkward  that  he  once 
tripped  over  his  own  feet  and  fell  down. 

Backed  up  against  the  Twelfth  Street  Meeting  House 
where  I  went  to  school  as  a  child,  stands  the  Roman  Cath 
olic  Church  of  St.  John  in  Thirteenth  Street,  the  organ 
ist  of  which  was  a  friend  of  Brignoli's,  who  used  to  go  and 
sing  the  Offertorium  there  now  and  then.  It  is  told  that 
once,  the  sermon  being  long  and  Brignoli  perturbed  lest 
he  should  be  late  at  a  luncheon  party,  the  celebrated  tenor, 
after  nervously  walking  up  and  down  the  choir  loft  for 
some  time,  suddenly  tore  aside  the  curtain  and  called 
down  to  the  priest,  who  had  not  yet  finished  his  discourse, 
"  Stop-a  de  preach!  Stop-a  de  preach !  Ising-anow!" 
And  the  mandate  of  the  eccentric  singer  was  duly  obeyed 
and  the  song  sung. 

There  are  so  many  instances  of  eccentricity  among  art 
ists  that  the  world  at  large  is  not  far  wrong  in  consider 
ing  that  some  of  them  may  be  not  quite  compos  mentis, 
as  the  Latins  would  say.  Indeed  the  fine  old  basso,  Cas- 
telmary,  said  to  me  one  day  toward  the  close  of  his 
career  at  Covent  Garden,  where  I  was  just  beginning 
my  own,  "  How  are  you  to-day,  my  dear?  "  and  tapping 
my  head  with  his  forefinger  he  questioned,  u  Just  a  leetle 
mad,  eh?  Just  a  leetle  mad?"  I  suppose  he  wanted 
to  know  where  he  stood  with  me,  as  he  was  the  regisseur 
of  the  company  and  I  was  plunging  in  "  where  angels 
feared  to  tread  " ;  such  an  act  could  but  be,  to  him,  that 
of  a  madman. 

Madame  Titjens  I  heard  but  once,  and  nothing  re 
mains  in  my  memory  of  the  sound  of  her  voice;  I  can 


36         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

only  recall  her  enormous  figure.  My  sense  of  hearing 
seemed  to  have  been  blotted  out  by  that  of  sight. 

Long  after  Christine  Nilsson  had  left  the  operatic 
stage  I  used  to  meet  her  socially  in  London.  She  had 
become  too  portly  to  adore,  though  her  voice  was  said  to 
have  retained  all  its  power  and  beauty.  During  my  early 
manhood  I  had  heard  her  in  "  Faust  "  and  I  was  once 
taken  behind  the  scenes  to  the  greenroom  at  the  Acad 
emy  of  Music  in  Philadelphia  by  a  friend  of  the  great 
prima  donna,  to  whom  I  was  introduced.  She  was  no 
longer  appearing  in  opera  and  was  singing  in  what  was 
one  of  her  last  concerts  in  America. 

Nilsson  was  still  superb  of  figure  and  looked  most 
regal  in  a  purple  velvet  gown  with  a  long  train.  I  be 
lieve  she  was  of  peasant  origin,  though  she  was  said  to 
be  patrician,  but  I  had  never  seen  such  extremes  of 
behavior  as  in  that  few  minutes  before  she  was  called 
on  the  stage  about  the  middle  of  the  program.  During 
the  intermission  she  had  been  conversing  in  a  dignified 
manner  with  a  group  of  friends.  When  she  was  told 
that  the  time  had  come  for  her  to  sing,  she  suddenly 
turned  upon  her  accompanist  and  gave  him  such  a  blow 
upon  his  back  with  her  hand  that  it  nearly  prostrated  the 
little  man,  saying  with  a  loud  laugh,  "  Come  along,  what 
are  you  standing  there  for?  " 

She  proceeded  from  the  greenroom  to  the  stage,  I 
walking  close  behind  her.  Just  as  she  stepped  into  view 
of  the  audience  her  train  caught  upon  a  nail  in  the  floor 
and  in  one  instant  she  had  turned  and  was  tearing  at 
it  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tigress.  Seeing  the  trouble,  I 
was  fortunately  able  to  disengage  her  dress  from  the 
obstacle,  when  she,  with  instantaneous  composure,  walked 
upon  the  stage  like  a  queen. 


MUSIC'S  GOLDEN  TONGUE  37 

That  same  greenroom  is  still  adorned  with  litho 
graphed  portraits  and  photographs  of  all  of  the  artists 
whom  I  saw  and  heard  in  my  youth,  but  I  have  never  en 
tered  this  room  nor  gone  upon  that  stage  without  thinking 
of  that  afternoon,  to  me  so  memorable,  when  I  first  came 
into  anything  like  personal  contact  with  a  great  represen 
tative  of  the  lyric  profession. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE 

That  noise  or  sound  which  musicians  make  while  they  are  in  tuning 
their  instruments  ...  is  nothing  pleasant  to  hear,  but  yet  is  a  cause  why 
the  music  is  sweeter  afterwards/ — Bacon. 

MY  father  had  decided  that  I  ought  to  see  Edwin 
Booth  in  "  Hamlet,"  somewhat  against  the  wishes  of  my 
mother,  on  condition  that  I  should  read  the  play.  This  I 
made  haste  to  do,  needless  to  say.  My  imagination  had 
already  been  stirred  by  the  visit  of  a  traveling  troupe 
to  Moorestown  and  I  remember  to  this  day  the  villain, 
the  lover,  and  the  bee-yoo-ty-ful  lady  of  the  piece.  I 
had  also  been  taken  surreptitiously  to  enjoy  the  gorgeous- 
ness  of  a  Christmas  pantomime,  but  I  think  my  mother 
never  found  this  out. 

It  was  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre  that  I  had  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  experience  of  hearing  and  seeing 
Edwin  Booth.  I  say  "  hearing  "  advisedly,  for  I  as  dis 
tinctly  recall  the  melody  of  his  voice  and  his  perfect 
diction  as  I  do  the  beauty  of  his  figure  and  face.  On 
that  stage  I  afterward  saw  Mr.  Booth  in  several  parts, 
when  I  grew  older  and  my  mother  ceased  objecting  to 
what  she  could  not  very  well  control.  It  was  there,  too, 
that  I  saw  Charlotte  Cushman,  Ristori,  Lawrence  Bar 
rett,  John  McCullough,  a  Philadelphian,  and  the  lovely 
Adelaide  Neilson,  whose  methods  more  nearly  matched 
those  of  Booth  than  those  of  any  one  else  I  have  ever  seen 
or  known  of. 


THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE  39 

The  Philadelphia  public  never  needed  to  be  treated 
with  such  consideration  as  that  of  Boston.  There  fash 
ionable  folk  would  attend  nothing  that  called  itself  a  thea 
tre,  but  came  later  to  patronize  the  company  of  eminent 
actors  that  flourished  for  so  many  years  at  the  Boston 
Museum.  And  it  not  only  had  to  call  itself  a  "  museum  " 
to  secure  the  attendance  of  respectable  people,  but  it  had 
to  have  enough  museum  curiosities,  however  incongruous, 
to  justify  the  name. 

I  had  cousins  and  friends  in  my  native  city  who  did  not 
approve  of  the  theatre,  and  yet  would  induce  me  to  go 
with  them  to  the  negro  minstrels.  I  laughed  heartily 
then,  as  I  have  done  since,  at  the  stories  told  by  the  black- 
faced  comedians;  but  what  I  truly  enjoyed  was  the  har 
monious  chorus-singing  of  those  men.  Such  antics  upon 
the  stage  as  by  many  are  considered  nothing  worse  than 
innocent  merriment,  I  am  still  Quaker  enough  to  think  a 
serious  waste  of  time  and  money,  and  I  marveled  in  my 
boyhood,  as  I  do  now,  at  the  state  of  mind  which  approves 
of  negro  minstrels  and  variety  shows  and  disapproves 
of  some  fine  legitimate  drama  well  played  by  an  accredited 
company  of  actors. 

Philadelphia,  notwithstanding  the  number  of  Quaker 
families,  gave  good  support  to  such  play-houses  as  the 
Walnut  Street  and  Arch  Street  Theatres,  at  the  latter  of 
which  Mrs.  John  Drew  and  her  husband,  surrounded  by  a 
distinguished  company,  played  for  many  years. 

It  is  not  strange,  considering  my  upbringing,  that,  as  a 
boy,  I  never  met  John  Drew  the  younger,  or  any  of  his 
family.  One  of  my  uncles  lived  near  them;  but  they 
were  classed  among  "  people  of  the  world,"  and,  being 
"  actor-folks "  besides,  did  not  come  within  the  social 
scope  of  my  strict-principled  relations.  John  Drew  went 


40         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

to  school  at  the  Episcopal  Academy  in  Locust  Street,  we 
grew  up  and  were  educated  only  a  stone's  throw  apart, 
and  yet,  though  in  after  years  we  learned  that  we  had 
many  friends  in  common,  in  our  boyhood  we  never  met. 
My  father  knew  the  Drews  and,  as  he  used  to  tell  me, 
had  the  entree  of  their  theatre,  though  he  never  made 
use  of  it. 

In  my  father's  library  were  many  volumes  of  English 
plays  which  I  read  with  avidity,  and  in  Tenth  Street  near 
Chestnut  stood  the  Mercantile  Library.  Upon  the 
ground  floor  of  this  building  there  was  about  midway 
along  the  reading  room  on  the  north  wall  a  section  de 
voted  to  dramatic  literature.  After  hearing  Edwin 
Booth,  Madame  Ristori,  and  the  few  other  great  players 
whom  I  remember  as  a  boy,  I  often  went  there  to  spend 
hours,  standing  before  these  shelves  with  the  biographies 
of  David  Garrick,  Edmund  Kean,  Macready,  or  the  Kem- 
bles  in  my  hands,  reveling  in  the  plays  of  the  theatre  and 
the  romances  of  real  life  that  clustered  about  the  ro 
mances  of  fancy. 

This  was  to  me  a  magic  country  indeed,  and  from  it 
came  a  clear  call  in  a  voice  akin  to  that  of  music.  These 
two  voices  joining  in  a  fascinating  duo,  as  it  were,  sum 
moned  me  to  join  the  circle  haunted  by  the  shades  of  those 
long  gone,  though  as  yet  nothing  was  further  from  my 
mind  than  an  actual  association  with  those  whose  ac 
quaintances  I  was  then  making,  in  an  artistic  way,  across 
the  footlights. 

During  these  times  I  saw  the  visiting  actors,  Barry 
Sullivan  and  Charles  Fechter.  Years  later  Fechter 
toured  America,  when  I  heard  him  read  the  play  of 
"  Hamlet."  He  had  a  slight  German  accent  that  was 
soon  forgotten  and  I  have  always  remembered  with  great 


THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE  41 

interest  not  only  his  rendering  of  the  title  role,  but  of 
the  minor  characters  of  the  play  which  so  frequently  are 
obliged  to  suffer  at  the  hands  of  artists  of  quality  inferior 
to  that  of  the  star.  But  Fechter  rendered  all  the  parts 
superbly,  especially  that  of  the  King,  whose  soliloquies 
he  gave  with  great  effect  and  whose  mental  anguish  he 
depicted  in  a  manner  that  I  have  never  seen  equaled. 
About  this  time,  too,  Edwin  Booth  and  Lawrence  Bar 
rett,  as  Brutus  and  Cassius  respectively,  toured  the  coun 
try  and  performed  "  Julius  Caesar,"  with  a  cast  and  in  a 
manner  always  to  be  remembered  by  any  one  who  had  the 
fortune  to  see  the  tragedy  with  so  many  well-chosen 
men  in  the  principal  parts. 

E.  L.  Davenport  afterward  assumed  the  part  of  Bru 
tus,  and  it  is  no  treason  to  say  that  I  preferred  him  in 
that  character  to  Booth  who,  to  my  mind,  lacked  the 
physical  and  vocal  power  at  that  stage  of  his  life  to  give 
the  noble  lines  their  requisite  weight. 

Another  heroic  figure  upon  the  stage  of  my  early  man 
hood  was  F.  C.  Bangs,  whom  I  vividly  remember  as  Mark 
Antony  with  Booth,  and  in  the  sumptuous  revival  of 
Byron's  "  Sardanapalus,"  in  which  he  was  magnificent. 

From  hearing  such  plays  as  these  I  was  beginning  to 
appreciate  the  value  of  our  admirable  language,  when  so 
ably  rendered  as  it  was  by  these  distinguished  men. 

The  first  time  that  I  was  ever  in  love  with  an  actress 
was  when  I  saw  the  wonderful  Adelaide  Neilson  in  some 
of  her  Shakesperian  characters,  notably  as  Viola  and 
as  Juliet.  But  my  interest  in  this  woman  was  really  more 
intellectual  than  physical.  Lovely  as  she  undoubtedly 
was  in  face  and  figure,  her  voice  was  more  entrancing 
than  that  of  any  actress  I  remember,  while  her  diction 
was  absolutely  perfect.  Had  the  phonograph  been  in- 


42         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

vented  in  her  day  the  subsequent  generations  would  in 
deed  have  had  an  object  lesson  in  the  correct  use  of  the 
English  language.  With  her  played  the  beautiful  Jack 
Barnes,  as  manly  a  figure  in  Romeo  and  other  parts  as 
one  could  wish  to  see,  and  a  perfectly  fitting  companion 
upon  the  stage  to  even  so  great  a  woman  as  Miss  Neilson. 

While  I  still  lived  in  Moorestown  and  before  I  grad 
uated  from  college  I  met  at  an  evening  party  two  tal 
ented  young  men,  Robert  and  William  Neilson ;  both  were 
lawyers  and  graduates  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania ; 
and  both  were  excellent  musicians,  playing  the  piano 
and  singing  on  the  evening  in  question  with  light  tenor 
voices,  in  a  beautiful  manner,  selections  from  the  earlier 
operas  of  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  and  of  Offenbach.  When 
I  came  to  live  in  Philadelphia  and  mingle  in  the  musical 
and  dramatic  circles  I  naturally  sought,  I  fell  in  again  im 
mediately  with  "  Billy  "  Neilson,  whose  remarkable  abil 
ity  as  a  comedian  caused  him  to  be  in  demand  in  all 
amateur  theatricals  that  went  on  in  our  city,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  he  enlisted  my  services  also,  in  plays  and 
operettas  given  at  the  Amateur's  Drawing-Room  in  Sev 
enteenth  Street  above  Chestnut,  now  occupied  by  a  branch 
Post-Office. 

One  summer  during  my  holiday  in  New  York,  I  re 
member  visiting  the  delightful  little  Madison  Square 
Theatre  in  Twenty-fourth  Street,  west  of  Broadway, 
where  upon  its  elevator  stage  I  saw  a  charming  perform 
ance  of  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett's  play  u  Esmeralda," 
which  I  had  already  read  in  the  magazine  where  it  first 
was  published,  and  in  which  I  longed  to  play  the  part  of 
the  old  man.  Indeed,  from  that  time  I  realized  that  I 
was  fitted  for  character  parts,  and  when  soon  after  I  saw 
Charles  Wolcot  as  the  French  professor  in  "  To  Parents 
and  Guardians,"  more  than  ever  was  I  determined  to 


THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE  43 


emulate  the  example  of  this  admirable  artist,  and,  if  I 
ever  did  go  on  the  stage,  to  play  such  parts  as  he  per 
formed  so  truthfully.  Wolcot  could  do  anything  from 
farce  to  tragedy  and  was  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
actors  I  ever  saw. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  found  myself  performing  with 
my  friend  Billy  Neilson  in  a  variety  of  pieces  at  the  Ama 
teur's  Drawing-Room,  and  as  a  member  of  the  Pilgrims 
Dramatic  Society  at  the  Working  Men's  Club  in  German- 
town,  which  had  an  excellent  auditorium  and  stage. 

After  assisting  in  various  minor  affairs  I  had  the  op 
portunity  of  singing  in  "  Golden-haired  Gertrude,"  an  op 
eretta  by  Miss  Elinor  Parrish,  in  the  author's  private 
house,  a  performance  so  successful  that  it  was  repeated 
at  the  Amateur's  Drawing-Room  on  the  evening  of  Mon 
day,  December  27,  1880,  really  my  first  appearance  be 
fore  the  public  in  a  work  of  this  nature.  This  was  soon 
followed  by  Arthur  Sullivan's  musical  adaptation  of  Bur- 
nand's  old  play  called  "  Cox  and  Box,"  with  Billy  and 
Robert  Neilson  in  the  cast  with  me,  and  this  I  repeated  the 
next  summer  at  the  opening  of  the  ballroom  at  Rodick's 
Hotel  in  Bar  Harbor.  Neilson  was  the  printer;  I  was 
Cox  the  hatter,  and  Bouncer  was  admirably  performed  by 
Elliott  Pendleton  of  Cincinnati.  We  finished  the  evening 
with  W.  S.  Gilbert's  delightful  comedy  "  Sweethearts,"  in 
which  I  was  the  gardener,  while  the  young  lover,  who  is 
many  years  older  in  the  second  act,  was  well  done  by 
Reginald  de  Koven,  already  known  as  the  composer  of  ex 
cellent  songs.  It  is  pleasant  to  remember  him  in  those 
days  as  being  so  much  in  demand  in  social  and  musical  cir 
cles,  not  only  because  he  played  his  own  compositions  so 
well  on  the  piano  but  because  he  was  even  then  recog 
nized,  by  those  who  knew,  as  having  a  fresh  touch  which 


44         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

was  soon  to  leave  its  mark  upon  the  music  of  the  day. 

I  was  fast  making  up  my  mind  at  that  time  that  busi 
ness,  other  than  theatrical  or  musical,  was  not  for  me; 
but  I  did  not  yet  see  my  way  toward  the  leaving  of  it. 
My  uncle  was  doing  his  best  to  interest  me,  though  I 
fear  he  must  have  been  sadly  disappointed  when  he  found 
my  real  thought  wandering  so  far  from  the  occupation  he 
had  planned,  for  like  the  stenographer  of  a  friend  of 
mine,  I  did  not  let  my  work  interfere  with  what  I  was 
thinking  about. 

During  this  time  I  was,  indeed,  too  busy  with  the 
musical  and  dramatic  activities  of  the  various  clubs  to 
which  I  belonged  to  do  much  more  than  learn  my  numer 
ous  parts.  My  own  share  of  them  possesses  a  certain 
interest  in  showing  how  much  stage  experience  I  was 
gaining. 

I  played  in  "  Nan,  the  Good-for-Nothing  " ;  as  the  hus 
band  in  "A  Husband  in  Clover";  as  Sir  Bloomfield 
Brambleton  in  "Who's  Who";  as  Sir  Charles  Seymour 
in  "  A  Cup  of  Tea  " ;  as  Colonel  Berners  in  "  Cut  Off 
With  a  Shilling";  as  General  von  Rosenberg  in  "Her 
Bitterest  Foe  ";  as  Jeremy  Crow  in  "  Meg's  Diversion  "; 
as  Mr.  Babblebrook  in  u  A  Lesson  in  Love  ";  as  Doctor 
Fleming  in  "  Weak  Woman  ";  as  Lord  Touchstone  Pep 
per  in  "  A  Reformer  in  Ruffles  ";  as  Hawkesley  in  "  Still 
Waters  Run  Deep";  appearing  also  in  William  Dean 
Howells's  "  The  Parlor  Car  "  and  "  The  Postal  Card," 
and  taking  the  part  of  Sir  Peter  Teazle  in  a  scene  from 
"  The  School  for  Scandal." 

After  singing  as  Pigeon  in  "  Golden-haired  Gertrude," 
already  mentioned,  I  sang  also  the  Foreman  of  the  Jury 
in  Gilbert  and  Sullivan's  "Trial  by  Jury";  in  "The 
Sorcerer,"  by  the  same  brilliant  collaborators;  as  Griddly 


THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE  45 

in  Offenbach's  "  Sixty-Six,"  and  in  "  Choufleuri,"  by  the 
same  composer.  Most  memorable  to  me  of  all  these 
varied  activities  upon  which  my  youthful  energy  was  ex 
pended  was  my  taking  the  part  of  the  Apothecary  in  the 
remarkable  travesty  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet  "  given  at  the 
Germantown  Opera  House  on  Friday  evening,  April  4, 
1882,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Young  America  Cricket  Club, 
and  on  other  occasions  also.  Written  by  Charles  C. 
Soule  of  St.  Louis  and  first  presented  before  the  Univer 
sity  Club  of  that  city  five  years  previously,  its  undergrad 
uate  buoyancy  and  witty  rhymed  dialogue  secured  from 
Horace  Howard  Furness,  the  distinguished  editor  of  the 
Variorum  Shakespeare,  the  high  praise  of  being  the  best 
travesty  of  Shakespeare  within  his  wide  and  profound 
knowledge. 

During  one  of  the  performances  I  distinctly  remember 
seeing  my  good  friend,  Mrs.  Caspar  Wister,  the  novelist, 
in  the  front  row  in  company  with  her  brother  Doctor 
Furness,  who  was  evidently  amused  by  the  performance, 
to  which  he  listened  with  the  aid  of  his  ear  trumpet,  for 
he  was,  even  at  that  time,  growing  very  deaf. 

The  morning  after,  I  received  a  letter  from  him  asking 
me,  if  possible,  to  procure  for  him  a  copy  of  the  libretto 
of  our  play  in  order  that  he  might  keep  it  in  his  famous 
collection  of  Shakespeareana.  In  his  library  at  his  house 
in  Wallingford,  Pennsylvania,  he  showed  it  to  me  years 
afterward,  and  I  have  seen  the  same  book  more  than  once 
in  the  same  collection,  now  in  Philadelphia,  which  was  in 
herited  by  his  son. 

My  own  collection  of  memorabilia  numbers  by  this 
time  many  volumes,  and  in  looking  these  over  I  find  that 
during  the  course  of  those  years  of  unconscious  prepara 
tion,  I  had  arrived  by  way  of  sociables,  reading  circles, 


46         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

music  with  my  father,  and  through  affairs  at  college,  to 
the  little  plays  and  operettas  that  I  have  mentioned;  and 
through  these,  by  degrees,  to  more  important  plays  and 
more  important  music. 

As  I  look  at  it  now  from  a  distance,  such  means  of  ac 
quiring  a  knowledge  of  the  stage  and  music  as  a  profes 
sion  is  not  by  any  means  one  to  be  followed  by  every  other 
person;  but  it  happens  to  have  been  what  I  did,  and  it 
led  me  to  a  professional  life. 


CHAPTER  V 

STEPPING-STONES 

Music  strikes  in  me  a  deep  fit  of  devotion,  and  a  profound  contempla 
tion  of  the  First  Composer.  There  is  something  in  it  of  Divinity  more 
than  the  ear  discovers. —  Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

DURING  all  this  time  of  activities  upon  the  amateur 
stage,  though  most  of  my  parts  were  spoken,  it  must  not 
be  supposed  that  my  prime  devotion  to  music  fell  into 
abeyance.  On  the  contrary,  as  it  was  amateur  singing 
that  led  to  acting,  so  in  the  years  soon  to  come  it  was  my 
preparation  for  singing  in  oratorio  that  led  me  to  the 
final  combination  of  singing  and  acting  on  the  operatic 
stage. 

While  I  was  in  my  uncle's  wool  house,  I  sought  and 
found  a  vocal  teacher,  Edward  Giles,  an  admirable  basso, 
holding  a  position  as  organist  in  one  of  the  city  church 
choirs.  To  him  I  went  frequently,  using  either  my  lunch 
hour  or  skipping  off  a  little  earlier  in  the  afternoon  and 
having  a  lesson  with  him  before  going  home  to  supper. 
The  drudgery  of  the  wool  business,  which  caused  me  to 
be  at  the  store  by  eight  o'clock,  was  wonderfully  miti 
gated  by  the  thought  of  the  joy  that  would  presently 
be  mine,  when  I  should  be  able  to  quit  for  the  day  and 
learn  the  great  parts  written  by  Handel,  Haydn,  and 
others  of  the  master  musicians. 

Through  Mr.  Giles  I  was  introduced  to  Michael  Cross, 
the  organist  of  the  cathedral  where  Max  Heinrich  sang, 
and  I  soon  became  a  member  of  the  Orpheus  Club,  an  ag- 

47 


48         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

grcgation  of  men  with  good  voices  who  were  glad  to 
come  together  on  Monday  evenings  to  practice  glees  and 
part  songs  under  the  leadership  of  Cross,  an  enthusiast 
about  such  music.  I  lived  through  the  week  in  anticipa 
tion  of  the  rehearsals  for  these  concerts,  three  of  which 
were  given  at  Musical  Fund  Hall  each  season. 

This  was  the  room  in  which  Jenny  Lind  had  sung  when 
visiting  Philadelphia,  and  she  had  then  declared  it  one 
of  the  most  perfect  auditoriums  in  which  she  had  ever 
lifted  up  her  exquisite  voice.  My  father  and  his  sister 
had  heard  her  and  were  never  tired  of  speaking  of  the 
beauty  of  her  singing.  It  appears  that  the  crowds  that 
assembled  to  hear  her  were  so  great  that  request  was 
made  in  the  newspapers  that  ladies  should  come  with 
out  their  crinolines  in  order  that  more  persons  might  be 
seated  in  the  hall. 

Not  until  long  after  my  younger  days  did  people  tire 
of  speaking  of  Jenny  Lind  and  the  beauty  of  her  art, 
only  eclipsed  by  the  later  appearance  of  Adelina  Patti. 
When  a  girl  Patti  had  been  a  good  deal  in  Philadelphia, 
where  her  kinsman  Ettore  Barili  had  been  her  master 
and  was  still  teaching  the  art  of  singing.  I  was  afterward 
to  meet  Madame  Patti,  and  also  Jenny  Lind,  when  the 
latter  was  an  old  woman,  a  few  years  before  her  death. 

Michael  Cross  became  my  musical  guide,  philosopher 
and  friend,  and  as  I  was  so  keen  about  the  rehearsals  of 
the  Orpheus  Club  he  suggested  that  I  should  join  the 
Arion,  a  similar  club,  holding  its  rehearsals  and  con 
certs  in  Germantown.  I  also  belonged  to  a  Madrigal 
Society  and  an  Oratorio  Society,  the  Cecilian,  all  under 
the  direction  of  Cross,  and  about  a  year  after  I  returned 
from  Europe  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  musical  af 
fairs  in  Philadelphia,  rehearsing  under  Cross's  baton 


STEPPING-STONES  49 

several  times  each  week,  and  at  the  concerts  of  his  clubs 
at  least  fifteen  times  a  year.  The  more  I  sang  the  bet 
ter  I  liked  it  and  the  less  interest  I  had  in  business,  which 
notwithstanding  I  stuck  to  for  seven  years. 

It  was  because  of  my  evidently  serious  interest  in  the 
art  that  Cross  invited  me  to  become  a  volunteer  member 
of  his  new  choir  at  Holy  Trinity  Church,  Rittenhouse 
Square,  where  I  sang  from  1879  to  1882;  and  I  am  sorry 
that  no  particulars  of  the  work  done  there  have  been 
kept.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  while  Cross  did  not  indulge 
in  the  more  classical  music  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
yet  in  the  quite  "  low  "  service  of  Holy  Trinity  he  was 
able  to  use  much  of  that  of  the  Church  of  England,  with 
which  I  became  acquainted  for  the  first  time. 

I  soon  became  a  proficient  reader  of  vocal  music,  and 
was  learning  to  play  well  upon  the  instrument  called  the 
human  voice;  though  my  unwieldy  fingers  would  accom 
modate  themselves  to  the  keys  of  the  piano  as  little  as 
ever.  Nearly  every  Saturday  for  several  years  I  spent 
the  evening  at  Cross's  listening  to  him  and  his  associates 
playing  string  quartettes,  and  though  I  could  do  nothing 
but  admire  their  performances,  I  devoted  myself  with  the 
greater  assiduity  to  the  cultivation  of  the  gift  which 
Heaven  had  been  pleased  to  bestow  upon  me,  studying 
enthusiastically  with  Cross  the  bass  and  barytone  roles 
in  the  best  oratorios. 

Frequently  in  those  days  I  met  Max  Heinrich  who 
heard  me  sing  such  songs  as  "  The  Erl  King  "  and  "  The 
Two  Grenadiers  " ;  but,  as  he  afterward  confessed,  he  did 
not  think  I  could  ever  make  anything  of  myself  as  a 
singer. 

On  one  occasion  I  had  the  opportunity  of  meeting 
Ulysses  S.  Grant.  The  Orpheus  Club  sang  at  a  reception 


50         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

given  him  in  the  galleries  of  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts, 
and  I  was  presented  to  the  distinguished  soldier-citizen. 
The  chief  hostess  of  the  occasion,  turning  to  the  Presi 
dent  and  indicating  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  the  assembled 
men  of  the  Orpheus  Club,  said,  "  And  now,  Mr.  Presi 
dent,  what  would  you  like  these  gentlemen  to  sing  for 
you?"  Grant,  in  his  blunt  and  rather  callous  way,  re 
plied,  "  Anything  you  please,  madame;  I  don't  know  one 
note  from  another."  We  sang  none  the  better,  I  sup 
pose,  for  knowing  that  the  guest  of  the  occasion  had  no 
enjoyment  in  our  performance ;  however,  we  sang  for  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  and  that  was  something. 

The  whole  neighborhood  of  the  city  where  I  daily 
worked  was  full  of  historic  memories.  Old  Christ 
Church,  which  Washington  used  to  attend  when  he  lived 
in  Philadelphia,  was  just  around  the  corner  in  Second 
Street,  and  though  many  memories  of  the  past  smiled 
upon  me  as  I  went  to  and  fro  in  the  Philadelphia  streets, 
yet  I  did  not  consider  in  my  youth  the  possibility  of  meet 
ing  face  to  face  persons  of  prominence  in  my  later  life. 

To  my  delight  I  frequently  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  aged  poet  Walt  Whitman  as  he  walked  past  our  place 
of  business  in  his  shapeless  shoes  and  light  tweed  suit  of 
no  cut  at  all,  several  buttons  of  his  waistcoat  open,  and 
what  was  apparently  his  nightshirt,  with  its  collar  lying 
loose  over  that  of  his  coat,  likewise  open  at  the  neck 
and  showing  his  gray  and  hairy  breast.  Crowning  a 
superb  and  rather  massive  Homeric-looking  head  was  a 
broad,  light  felt  slouch  hat.  Thus  Whitman  proceeded 
in  serene  indifference  to  the  attention  of  passers-by,  who 
would  almost  have  stared  him  out  of  countenance  had 
he  deigned  to  notice  them. 

My  native  city  had   in   those   times   two   Episcopal 


STEPPING-STONES  51 

churches  where  the  services  were  very  "  high  " :  St.  Clem 
ent's,  which,  but  for  the  English  language  used,  might  as 
well  have  been  a  Roman  church  for  all  I  could  see,  and 
St.  Mark's,  where  the  English  organist,  Minton  Pyne, 
invited  me  to  become  a  member  of  his  choir,  offering  me 
at  the  same  time  a  moderate  salary  to  insure  my  attend 
ance.  I  accepted  with  pleasure,  feeling  that  it  might  be 
the  stepping-stone  to  something  more  than  the  $6  a  week  I 
was  now  getting  in  my  uncle's  office.  I,  therefore,  donned 
the  cassock  and  cotta  and  for  about  four  years  partici 
pated  in  most  of  the  music  rendered  by  that  vested  choir. 
Several  of  its  members  were  English  singers  who  had 
been  brought  up  in  cathedrals  in  their  mother  country  and 
knew  well  the  kind  of  music  performed  at  St.  Mark's 
Church.  The  weekly  rehearsals  were  long  and  arduous, 
but  none  the  less  interesting,  as  they  introduced  me  to  a 
phase  of  the  art  which  so  far  I  had  not  known. 

The  first  program  I  have  of  services  in  St.  Mark's 
Church  is  that  of  Easter  Day,  1882.  After  a  year  or 
more,  upon  the  departure  of  our  English  precentor,  his 
mantle  fell  upon  me,  and  I  rejoiced  in  lifting  up  my  voice 
in  this  kind  of  praise  to  the  Power  who  had  bestowed  upon 
me  the  gift  for  which  I  was  becoming  increasingly  thank 
ful.  Minton  Pyne  had  been  a  pupil  of  the  great  organist 
S.  S.  Wesley  of  Gloucester  Cathedral,  and  had  brought 
with  him  to  America  the  very  best  churchly  traditions. 
To  him  I  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  the  great  assistance 
he  was  to  me  in  my  musical  life  in  introducing  me  to  so 
many  of  the  finest  sacred  works,  such  as  the  Masses  of 
Mozart,  Beethoven,  and  Schubert,  which  were  constantly 
rendered  by  us,  in  addition  to  the  noblest  of  English 
music. 

Simultaneously  I  belonged  for  about  four  years  to  the 


52         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Cecilian  Oratorio  Society,  and  assisted  as  one  of  the 
basses  of  the  chorus  in  the  productions  of  "The  Messiah, " 
"  Israel  in  Egypt,"  "  Judas  Maccabaeus,"  and  "  Samson  " 
by  Handel;  in  "  The  Creation  "  and  "  The  Seasons  "  by 
Haydn;  in  "Elijah,"  "  St.  Paul,"  and  "The  Hymn  of 
Praise  "  by  Mendelssohn;  the  "  Passion  Music  "by  Bach; 
the  "  Odysseus  "  and  "  Frithjof  "  by  Bruch;  the  "  Stabat 
Mater"  by  Rossini;  "The  Redemption,"  "  Mors  et 
Vita,"  and  "  Gallia "  by  Gounod,  and  the  oratorio 
"  Moses  in  Egypt  "  by  Rossini. 

At  last  I  became  proficient  enough  and  well  enough 
known  as  an  amateur  soloist  to  be  asked  by  the  com 
mittee  to  sing  some  of  the  smaller  bass  solo  parts,  which, 
of  course,  I  was  only  too  proud  to  be  able  to  assume. 
I  find,  for  instance,  from  the  programs  before  me,  that  at 
the  Academy  of  Music  in  March,  1883,  I  sang  the  part  of 
the  Steersman  in  Max  Bruch's  "  Odysseus  "  to  the  Ulysses 
of  Heinrich;  and  on  March  12,  1885,  I  took  the  part  of 
Judas,  Peter,  and  the  High  Priest  in  Bach's  St.  Matthew 
"  Passion  Music,"  while  Max  Heinrich  sang  the  part  of 
Christ.  This  was  my  first  appearance  as  a  soloist  in  any 
large  public  way  in  oratorio;  and  on  April  9,  1886,  I  sang 
the  part  of  the  bass  Narrator  in  Gounod's  "  Redemption," 
again  with  Heinrich  as  Christ.  I  was  beginning  grad 
ually  to  get  my  musical  feet  under  me. 

Somewhere  along  in  these  years  Theodore  Thomas 
issued  a  call  to  members  of  all  oratorio  societies  to  come 
to  New  York  to  assist  there  in  a  Festival,  to  take  place 
at  the  Seventh  Regiment  Armory.  I  went  from  Phil 
adelphia  with  most  of  the  members  of  the  Cecilian  and 
sang  in  Handel's  "  Israel  in  Egypt,"  thus  performing  for 
the  first  time  under  the  baton  of  one  whom  I  so  revered 
and  whom  I  was  to  know  so  well  in  later  life. 


STEPPING-STONES  53 

On  this  occasion  that  noble  singer,  Myron  Whitney,  of 
Boston  was  one  of  the  basses,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
the  singing  of  his  part  in  "  The  Lord  is  a  Man  of  War." 
I  had  admired  Whitney  from  the  first  time  I  ever  heard 
him,  at  the  opening  of  the  Centennial  Exposition  in 
Philadelphia  on  May  10,  1876,  when  in  the  open  air 
before  a  vast  concourse  of  people,  he  held  his  own 
superbly  in  the  bass  part  in  "  The  Centennial  Cantata," 
by  Dudley  Buck.  Whitney  was  an  ideal  oratorio  singer 
and,  better  than  any  one  I  ever  heard,  except  Santley, 
could  negotiate  the  runs  required  of  the  Handelian  singer, 
as  well  as  the  dramatic  rendering  of  its  recitative,  in  which 
so  few  are  acceptable. 

Some  years  ago  the  late  Gustave  Kobbe,  he,  perhaps 
somewhat  my  senior,  in  speaking  of  those  times  of  our 
youth,  said,  "  I  have  a  story  of  you  which  I  doubt  if 
you  have  ever  heard";  and  proceeded  to  tell  me  that 
he,  too,  was  in  business  in  Philadelphia  when  young,  and 
that  one  morning  while  he  was  talking  to  an  elderly 
Friend,  I  went  by,  humming  what  seemed  to  be  a  vocal 
exercise.  The  elderly  Friend  stopped  in  his  conversa 
tion  and  pointed  to  me  as  I  passed,  saying:  "  Does  thee 
see  that  young  man  going  along  there  singing?  Well, 
he  is  the  grandson  of  an  old  friend  of  mine,  but  I  tell 
thee  he  isn't  going  to  come  to  any  good,  for  he  is  always 
fooling  around  after  music." 

I  have  thought  often  since  of  Kobbe's  story  and  how 
essential  it  is  for  a  person  in  order  to  make  a  success 
in  anything  to  be  always  thinking  of  it  and  doing  it,  as 
far  as  lies  in  his  power,  and  not  to  fool  around  after  it. 

Music  is  not  only  a  fine  art  but  a  science,  and  should 
be  learned  scientifically  and  accurately.  Otherwise  it 
amounts  to  next  to  nothing  and  is  likely  to  lead  to  the 


54         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

stupid  waste  of  time  against  which  my  Quaker  ancestors 
so  feelingly  inveighed.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  was  trying 
to  master  one  of  those  Handelian  passages  I  had  just 
heard  Whitney  sing.  I  thought  more  of  that  than  of  my 
raise  to  an  $8  weekly  wage. 


CHAPTER  VI 

DECISION 

The  soul  of  music  slumbers  in  the  shell, 
Till  waked  and  kindled  by  the  master's  spell ; 
And  feeling  hearts  —  touch  them  but  rightly  —  pour 
A  thousand  melodies  unfelt  before. —  Rogers. 

HIGH  aspiration  and  some  little  accomplishment  in 
music;  lack  of  ambition  and  no  accomplishment  in  com 
merce  ;  these  two  phrases  well  express  my  groping  toward 
the  pathway  of  a  career  in  those  days.  The  work  of  Sir 
George  Grove,  editor  of  the  Dictionary  of  Music  and 
Musicians  and  director  of  the  Royal  College  of  Music  in 
London,  had  long  attracted  me.  I  wrote  him  for  a 
prospectus  of  his  institution,  fondly  hoping  to  prepare 
myself  there  for  a  professional  career.  To  my  chagrin 
the  prospectus  informed  me  that  I  was  already  too  old 
to  enter  its  classes.  As  there  was  no  source  of  informa 
tion  nearer  than  London,  I  wrote  Sir  George  again,  stat 
ing  my  case.  A  prompt  answer  contained  an  introduc 
tion  to  his  friend  Georg  Henschel,  conductor  of  the  newly 
founded  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra. 

By  appointment  I  went  to  Boston,  soon  to  find  myself 
standing  before  the  famous  singer,  whom  I  had  so  often 
admired  in  my  native  city.  No  one  could  have  been 
kinder  than  Henschel,  but  I  found  myself  afflicted  with 
a  bad  case  of  stage  fright  and  he,  realizing  how  little 
justice  I  was  doing  myself,  asked  me  to  return  the  next 
day  when,  after  another  hour  of  song  and  conversation 
with  him,  I  felt  much  more  at  my  ease. 

55 


56         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

After  full  inquiry  into  my  experience  and  capabilities 
he  told  me,  to  my  keen  disappointment,  that  he  thought 
them  quite  inadequate  as  a  basis  for  professional  work, 
for  what  I  had  done  had  been  done  entirely  as  an  amateur 
and  without  serious  study.  I  was  listening  to  an  ac 
complished  pianist,  conductor,  composer,  and  singer.  I 
could  not  play  the  piano.  I  had  never  conducted.  I 
could  not  compose,  but  I  thought  I  could  sing.  Henschel, 
however,  told  me  that  though  I  had  a  good  natural  voice, 
my  inability  to  play  the  piano  left  it  fairly  impossible  for 
me  to  learn  even  a  little  of  the  music  I  must  know  if  I 
wished  to  take  up  a  singer's  career  with  any  reasonable 
hope  of  success.  Disappointed  as  I  was,  I  nevertheless 
determined  from  that  night  to  be  a  singer.  So  far  as 
my  inability  to  play  the  piano  was  concerned,  most  of 
the  singers  I  had  heard  could  not  play  and  had  been  ac 
companied  by  some  one  else.  What  audience  ever  knew 
what  a  singer's  pianistic  talents  might  be?  Its  judgment 
is  based  on  the  beauty  of  his  voice  and  the  interest  he 
arouses  by  his  songs  and  his  singing. 

I  decided  never  again  to  waste  time  by  touching  a 
piano,  but  to  devote  myself  all  the  more  to  the  cultivation 
of  my  voice,  and  thereafter  sought  the  assistance  of  those 
who  played  the  piano  well,  and  with  their  aid  I  worked 
up  a  repertory  of  classical  songs  such  as  I  had  often 
heard  Henschel,  Heinrich  and  others  perform  and  which 
I  knew  I,  too,  could  sing. 

Among  operatic  artists  I  took  as  models  the  barytones 
Galassi  and  Del  Puente;  the  former  possessing,  in  a 
somewhat  lighter  voice,  the  grand  manner  which  I  so 
admired  in  the  oratorio  singing  of  Myron  Whitney;  the 
latter,  the  same  delightful  verve  and  animation  I  so 
enjoyed  in  the  work  of  Max  Heinrich. 


DECISION  57 

There  were  a  number  of  musicians  in  the  social  circles 
of  Philadelphia  who  had  a  marked  influence  upon  my  ca 
reer;  through  them  I  joined  a  coterie  of  amateurs  which 
led  to  my  acquaintance  with  many  persons  whom  I  might 
not  otherwise  have  known,  and  certainly  gave  me  an  op 
portunity  to  sing  as  often  as  I  cared  to.  I  may  say 
frankly  that  I  was  in  demand  for  my  vocal  solos;  my 
enthusiasm  being  such  as  to  win  the  confidence  of  my 
associates.  I  was  fast  becoming  enamored  of  music, 
not  only  as  a  pleasurable  thing,  but  as  a  means  of  mak 
ing  a  livelihood  not  afforded  by  the  wool  business,  where 
by  this  time  I  was  getting  as  much  as  $10  a  week,  which 
I  frankly  confess  I  did  not  deserve,  and  where  as  time 
went  on  I  was  rapidly  demonstrating  my  unfitness  for 
such  work  as  I  had  to  do.  My  thoughts  were  never 
upon  it  for  one  moment;  I  was  always  living  in  the  past 
and  hoping  for  the  future.  Each  musical  evening  was  a 
fresh  inspiration  for  me ;  each  concert  in  which  I  took 
part  I  looked  upon  as  a  higher  rung  on  the  ladder. 

Temporarily  abandoning  business  in  1885,  I  revisited 
Europe,  steeping  my  heart  as  well  as  my  head  in  the 
beauty  and  mystery  of  art,  my  whole  nature  yearning 
toward  a  public  career.  What  was  almost  a  loathing 
filled  me  at  the  thought  of  the  fleecy  treasure  at  home 
which  so  wholly  failed  to  capture  my  imagination.  I  was 
longing  for  the  time  to  come  when,  if  I  returned  to 
America,  it  would  be  not  for  business,  but  to  mingle 
once  more  with  my  companions  of  the  musical  circles 
which  I  had  enjoyed  so  greatly,  the  professionals, 
amateurs  and  dilettanti,  association  with  whom,  indeed, 
made  up  my  real  life. 

While  abroad  I  had  heard  opera  in  London,  attended 
concerts,  and  on  one  occasion  became  a  volunteer 


58         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

member  of  the  giant  chorus  at  the  Handel  Festival  at 
the  Crystal  Palace  under  the  conductorship  of  August 
Manns.  This  participation  in  "  The  Messiah  "  was  ef 
fected  by  means  of  the  not  unknown  course  called  bribery; 
an  attendant  yielding  to  the  lure  of  half  a  sovereign  to 
let  me  in  among  the  basses. 

I  heard  opera  in  Paris,  in  Milan,  and  in  Rome.  Nat 
urally  enough  I  was  impressed  more  by  the  performances 
I  heard  at  Bayreuth  than  by  any  other  operatic  function 
which  I  had  ever  attended.  The  singing  of  Rosa  Sucher, 
then  in  her  prime,  stands  out  in  my  memory  beyond  any 
thing  else.  Isolde  in  her  hands  became  the  acme  of 
operatic  grace  and  intensity;  she  seemed  to  me  even  to 
surpass  Lilli  Lehmann  in  that  particular  character. 
Gura  was,  to  my  mind,  the  finest  Hans  Sachs  I  had 
ever  heard,  while  Friedrichs  as  Beckmesser  was  unap 
proachable.  Though  I  laughed  at  Beckmesser  I  longed 
to  sing  the  melodious  and  gracious  vocal  passages  al 
lotted  to  Sachs,  and  heard  "  Die  Meistersinger  "  often. 

On  returning  to  Philadelphia  in  the  autumn  of  1885  I 
again  attempted  to  take  up  a  business  career,  not  this 
time  in  my  uncle's  establishment,  though  offered  an  ad 
vance  of  $2  a  week,  but  as  a  clerk  in  the  Lehigh  Valley 
Railway  office,  the  examination  for  which  I  was  barely 
able  to  pass.  I  received  there  something  like  $12  a 
week,  I  think,  for  doing  nothing  that  I  liked,  and  doing 
that  badly,  with  the  prospect  of  $14  five  years  after 
ward,  if  I  could  pass  the  further  examinations  required. 

The  thought  of  this  was  enough,  and  I  immediately 
determined  to  get  away  as  soon  as  I  could,  making  plans 
to  return  to  Europe  and  study  there  with  the  distinct  in 
tention  of  becoming  a  singer  in  oratorio  and  concert.  I 
had  not  yet  learned  a  single  operatic  role  for  profes- 


DECISION  59 

sional  use,  aware  as  I  was  of  my  mother's  aversion  to 
such  a  career.  I  thought  she  was  wrong,  yet  respected 
her  wishes.  Beyond  a  few  operatic  arias  which  I  used 
occasionally  in  concert,  I  had  no  acquaintance  whatever 
with  operatic  literature,  except  as  I  had  heard  it  from 
the  seats  of  an  opera  house.  If  I  had  been  preparing  for 
anything,  it  was  for  concert  and  oratorio. 

During  the  winter  I  resumed  my  attendance  upon  the 
rehearsals  of  my  musical  clubs  and  went  on  as  before  as 
precentor  of  St.  Mark's  Choir.  These  for  a  time  suf 
ficed  to  give  me  all  the  vocal  exercise  I  could  spare  from 
my  business  and  social  life. 

I  returned  to  Europe  in  the  spring  of  1886,  severing 
at  that  time  all  immediate  connections  with  Philadelphia 
for  many  years.  Indeed,  it  was  a  full  decade  before  I 
appeared  again  in  my  native  city. 

Crossing  to  Europe  for  the  third  time  I  met  on  board 
the  steamer  the  well-known  Chicago  singing  teacher, 
Frank  Baird,  a  pupil  of  William  Shakespeare  of  London; 
meeting  this  great  master  soon  after  my  arrival  I  felt 
that  I  could  do  no  better  than  entrust  my  musical  and 
vocal  education  to  so  eminent  an  authority.  I  cannot  be 
sufficiently  thankful  for  the  good  fortune  which  thus 
brought  me  into  contact  with  so  fine  a  man,  so  admirable 
a  musician,  and  a  teacher  who  was  also  a  singer. 

During  his  time  at  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music  in 
London  he  had  won  the  Mendelssohn  scholarship,  and  at 
first  intended  to  make  a  career  as  a  concert  pianist,  but 
finding  that  his  own  beautiful  tenor  voice  was  developing, 
he  began  to  study  with  the  elder  Lamperti  in  Milan,  and 
upon  returning  to  London  one  Sunday,  as  he  told  me,  he 
found  a  letter  addressed  to  him  in  an  emergency  and 
almost  at  the  last  moment  from  the  committee  of  one  of 


60         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 


the  festivals,  requesting  him  to  assume  an  important  part 
in  a  work  with  which  he  was  entirely  unfamiliar.  Being 
an  excellent  reader  he  was  able  to  go  immediately  to  the 
dress  rehearsal,  where  he  carried  through  his  part  with 
out  a  mistake,  a  feat  the  accomplishment  of  which  would 
have  been  almost  impossible  to  any  one  else  in  England. 

This  led  to  Mr.  Shakespeare's  frequent  engagement  as 
tenor  at  the  principal  English  musical  festivals.  His 
taste  did  not,  however,  lead  him  to  enjoy  public  singing; 
and,  as  his  voice  was  very  light  in  quality,  it  was  not  long 
before  he  gave  up  all  participation  in  concerts  and  de 
voted  his  entire  time  to  teaching. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  I  fell  in  with  the  master  whose 
name,  of  course,  had  attracted  me.  As  I  learned  from 
himself  he  came  from  the  Warwickshire  family  from 
which  the  dramatist  had  sprung;  indeed  "  Shakey,"  as  we 
called  him,  bore  a  marked  resemblance  to  the  bust  of 
Shakespeare  in  the  church  at  Stratf ord-on-Avon ;  yet  he 
laid  no  claim  to  direct  descent  from  the  poet,  and  was 
quick  to  laugh  out  of  court  the  Teutonic  contention  that 
he  was  of  German  origin. 

Shakespeare's  name  as  a  teacher  is  quite  as  highly 
thought  of  and  as  widely  known  in  the  United  States 
as  it  is  in  England,  where  he  had  many  competitors, 
and  where  his  musicianly  and  extremely  careful  method 
of  teaching  was  less  the  vogue  than  that  preferred  by 
many  artists  who  sought  the  advice  of  masters  who  were 
not  themselves  vocalists,  who  did  not  know  the  classics 
well,  whose  stock  in  trade  was  the  popular  ballads  of  the 
day.  Shakespeare,  on  the  contrary,  inculcated  a  love  for 
the  classics,  and  nothing  else  found  acceptance  in  his 
studio.  Having  taught  his  pupils  how  to  sing,  he  edu 
cated  them  in  the  literature  of  song,  and  in  the  manner  of 


DECISION  61 

rendering  such  selections  as  fitted  their  individual  voices. 
In  fact  he  taught  us  the  three  essentials:  how  to  sing, 
what  to  sing,  and  how  to  sing  it ! 

Informing  Shakespeare  of  my  intention  to  study  in 
Italy  for  the  concert  stage  in  England,  he  urged  me  to 
study  there  with  him  at  once.  I  preferred,  however,  to 
do  as  I  had  planned,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  did  so,  de 
sirous  as  I  was  to  obtain  more  knowledge  of  French, 
German,  and  Italian. 

At  the  Birmingham  Festival,  before  leaving  England, 
I  met  B.  J.  Lang,  the  celebrated  conductor  of  Boston.  I 
had  known  him  in  America  and  he  had  heard  that  I  in 
tended  to  make  a  career  of  music.  At  that  time  grand 
opera  was  looming  large  in  New  York,  and  he  greeted 
me  with  the  question,  "  Why  have  you  chosen  oratorio?  " 
I  explained  to  him  that  I  knew  no  opera,  owing  to  my 
mother's  dislike  of  that  phase  of  music.  But  he  still 
persisted,  assuring  me  that  opera  was  the  thing. 
"  Oratorio,"  said  he,  u  is  only  opera  spoiled."  Amus 
ing  and  possibly  true;  but  according  to  my  wont,  after 
satisfying  myself  as  to  the  right  course  to  pursue,  despite 
Mr.  Lang's  and  Shakespeare's  advice,  I  went  my  way  to 
Florence,  where  I  put  myself  under  Maestro  Vannuccini. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SERIOUS    STUDY   BEGINS 

For  sure  no  minutes  bring  us  more  content 
Than  those  in  pleasing,  useful  studies  spent. 
—  John  Pomfret. 

WHEN  the  celebrated  actor  Sir  Johnston  Forbes- 
Robertson  was  last  in  America,  he  reminded  me  of  my 
visit  to  him  in  England  in  1886.  After  forwarding  a  let 
ter  of  introduction,  I  had  called  at  his  studio  —  he  is  a 
painter  as  well  as  an  actor  —  telling  him  during  our  con 
versation  that  I  was  about  to  go  to  Italy,  but  would 
before  long  appear  upon  the  boards  in  London.  He  lis 
tened  attentively  and  assured  me  that  I  should  not  find 
it  an  easy  thing  to  do.  He  had  been  upon  the  stage 
since  his  youth,  had  mingled  with  artists  and  with  the 
most  distinguished  actors  and  musicians  of  his  day;  he 
had  lately  been  taken  into  Henry  Irving' s  company,  where 
he  was  highly  esteemed;  and  yet  he  was  far  from  stand 
ing  where  he  wished  to  be. 

Referring  to  that  time  he  said:  "  I  thought  when  you 
had  gone :  *  Poor  fool !  he  little  knows  what  there  is 
in  store  for  him,  brought  up  in  Philadelphia  with  no 
musical  or  artistic  antecedents,  not  being  able  to  play  the 
piano,  knowing  no  one  and  having  no  pull  in  London; 
yet  he  is  going  to  try  it.  Poor  fool !  '  Turning  to 
some  one  who  sat  with  us,  he  suddenly  said,  "  Yet,  by 
gad,  he  came  back  and  did  it!  "  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
that  is  what  happened. 

62 


SERIOUS  STUDY  BEGINS  63 

Five  years  from  that  time  I  was  back  in  London  and 
on  the  stage  under  the  best  of  auspices;  and  that  is  why 
this  book  is  being  written,  for  I  want  those  who  follow  me 
to  know  just  how  it  came  about  that  I  have  accomplished 
whatever  I  have  done,  and  to  realize  that  nothing  can  be 
done  at  all  unless  one  sets  out  to  do  it  oneself,  relying 
upon  nobody  at  all,  yet  scorning  no  assistance.  Every 
aid  for  advancement  must,  of  course,  be  seized,  but  for 
all  the  aid  that  may  be  extended,  no  one  can  accomplish 
anything  if  he  himself  lacks  the  inner  urge  that  animates 
all  who  do  things  in  the  world,  even  to  the  salmon  that 
rush  against  the  current  up  the  most  torrential  streams, 
struggling  through  rapids,  leaping  waterfalls.  Though 
thousands  die  in  the  attempt,  yet  some  succeed  and  get 
to  the  wished-for  haven  and  spawning  ground,  where  they 
are  at  peace.  Thus  they  accomplish  what  the  inner  im 
pulse  of  their  nature  prompts  them  to  do,  and  by  paths 
they  know  not,  through  ways  never  traversed  before, 
they  reach  their  goal  through  the  guidance  of  that 
Providence  to  whom  the  rise  of  the  artist  and  the  fall 
of  the  sparrow  are  one. 

Upon  leaving  London  I  went  to  Florence  by  way  of 
San  Remo  on  the  Italian  Riviera,  and  there,  on  Ash 
Wednesday  in  the  spring  of  1887,  occurred  one  of  those 
dreadful  convulsions  of  nature  that  leave  puny  man  weak, 
trembling,  and  helpless  before  the  majesty  of  Nature 
and  the  power  of  Nature's  God.  Never  shall  I  forget 
the  horror  of  being  aroused  in  the  early  morning  by  the 
whole  earth  quaking  in  a  manner  that  reminded  me  of 
nothing  so  much  as  a  dog  shaking  a  rat  to  death. 
Imagine  the  Hound  of  Heaven  with  the  earth  in  His 
teeth  1 

Thousands  of  persons  were  killed  or  maimed  for  life 


64         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

in  those  two  shocks,  which  took  place  about  five  minutes 
apart  and  reduced  to  ruin  scores  of  villages  which  had 
for  centuries  withstood  the  ravages  of  time.  For 
tunately,  my  hotel  was  strongly  built  and  suffered  no 
material  damage.  But  how  heart-rending  it  was  to 
see,  as  I  did  upon  the  relief  expeditions  in  which  I  took 
part,  the  ruined  towns  surrounded  by  mediaeval  walls,  still 
standing  to  be  sure,  but  concealing  behind  their  ramparts 
and  ancient  defenses  the  havoc  wrought  among  the  de 
fenseless  !  In  most  of  these  places  the  devout  had  been 
at  early  mass,  during  which  the  earthquake  shook  the 
churches  so  dreadfully  that  the  heavy  masonry  of  the 
roofs  fell  in,  burying  the  congregations,  though  leaving 
the  priest  unhurt  beneath  the  half  dome  over  the  chancel. 

In  one  place  I  remember  the  story  of  an  aged  cleric, 
who  stood  serene,  and  lifted  up  his  voice  among  the 
shrieks  of  the  dying  and  injured,  saying,  "  My  children,  I 
baptized  you  when  you  entered  this  sinful  world,  I  now 
absolve  you  as  you  leave  it  for  Paradise." 

I  have  loved  Italy  from  the  time  I  first  visited  it  and 
am  particularly  fond  of  the  Italian  Lakes ;  indeed  who  is 
not?  The  Plains  of  Lombardy  had  a  fascination  for 
me  so  great  that  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  frequented  that 
part  of  the  world  in  some  former  state  of  existence.  I 
fancy  that  every  one  feels  that  he  should  like  to  be  in  that 
locality  for  ever,  and  therefore  has  a  sort  of  reflex  mental 
action;  for  many  consider  they  have  been  there  before. 

On  the  day  of  my  arrival  in  Florence  I  noticed  a  tall 
old  man,  bare-headed  and  with  flowing  hair  and  beard, 
carrying  a  beautiful  little  girl  upon  his  shoulder  as  he 
went  about  the  streets.  Every  one  turned  to  look  at  the 
quaint  but  charming  sight  of  the  happy  child  and  the 
equally  happy  grandfather,  who  turned  out  to  be  the 


SERIOUS  STUDY  BEGINS  65 

well-known  American  song  writer,  George  F.  Root,  au 
thor  of  "  The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom  "  and  other  Civil 
War  songs. 

Into  the  American  Colony  at  Florence  I  was  soon  in 
troduced,  to  meet  among  others  the  novelist  Constance 
Fenimore  Woolson,  a  niece  -of  Fenimore  Cooper;  F. 
Marion  Crawford,  the  writer  of  romance;  William 
Cooper,  the  sculptor,  whose  wife  was  a  brilliant  musician; 
and  her  father,  Thomas  Ball,  also  a  distinguished  sculptor. 
These  friends  lived  on  the  hill  a  little  back  of  Michael 
Angelo's  statue  of  "  David,"  and  it  was  at  their  house 
that  I  renewed  the  acquaintance  of  Salvini,  that  mighty 
actor,  whom  I  had  met  in  Philadelphia  a  few  years  before 
at  the  Penn  Club,  an  organization  which  exists  in  part 
in  order  to  do  honor  to  the  distinguished  men  who  visit 
the  Quaker  City. 

I  had  been  thrilled  as  never  before  by  Salvini's  im 
personation  of  Othello,  which  was  the  greatest  piece  of 
tragic  acting  that  ever  I  have  seen.  Salvini  never  fell 
from  his  high  estate,  remaining  to  his  end  noble  and 
impressive  in  every  'movement  and  in  the  majesty  of  his 
voice,  superb  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  tell. 

I  had  met  Henry  Irving  also  at  the  Penn  Club,  and  re 
call  a  story  of  him,  told  me  by  the  man  to  whom  it  hap 
pened.  He  was  deep  in  conversation  with  Sir  Henry 
when  some  one  was  brought  up  and  introduced  and  the 
conversation  was  not  resumed.  A  year  later,  when  Irv 
ing,  again  at  the  Penn  Club,  met  my  friend  he  stretched 
out  his  hand,  called  him  by  name,  saying,  "  As  I  was 
about  to  say  last  year  when  we  were  interrupted,"  and 
went  straight  on  with  the  conversation  from  the  point  at 
which  it  was  broken  off  the  year  before.  Despite  such 
extraordinary  powers  Irving  was  still  human  and  there- 


66         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

fore  liable  to  err.  After  playing  Mathias  in  "  The 
Bells  "  hundreds  of  times  during  his  career,  one  night 
when  alone  upon  the  stage  in  the  midst  of  a  soliloquy,  he 
suddenly  stopped,  unable  to  recall  what  followed.  Not 
in  the  least  disconcerted,  he  looked  toward  the  prompter 
and  was  heard  by  the  audience  to  say,  "  Line,  please." 
The  prompter,  never  thinking  that  Irving  could  be  in 
need  of  him,  was  not  attending  to  his  business  but  was 
talking  to  some  one  behind  the  scenes,  when  the  actor 
taking  a  step  toward  him  said  in  a  louder  tone  of  voice, 
"  Line,  please !  "  The  audience,  observing  that  their 
favorite  was  in  difficulties,  was  tense  with  excitement. 
The  prompter,  at  last  realizing  Irving's  plight,  hurriedly 
consulted  his  book;  and  when  Irving  for  the  third  time 
requested  "Line,  please!"  the  sound  of  the  hastily 
turned  pages  was  clearly  distinguishable,  with  the  fright 
ened  voice  following,  "  Which  line,  Sir  Henry?"  The 
house  gave  a  shout  of  laughter  and  the  tragedian,  recov 
ering  himself  immediately,  went  on  with  his  part. 

I  found  in  Italy,  as  elsewhere,  that  possession  of  a 
voice  proved  to  be  an  open  sesame  to  every  circle,  and 
during  a  visit  to  Venice,  at  the  hospitable  house  of  Mrs. 
Bronson,  I  met  Robert  Browning  and  had  the  interesting 
experience  of  singing  one  of  his  wife's  sonnets  to  him. 
I  have  often  wondered  why  great  people  cannot,  in  their 
appearance,  live  up  to  their  reputations.  This  very 
usual-looking  gentleman  gave  no  hint  of  the  genius  within 
him.  In  Florence  I  met  the  great  American  painter, 
John  Sargent,  who  was  visiting  his  sisters  at  the  house 
that  had  once  been  occupied  by  Elizabeth  Barrett  Brown 
ing.  Not  the  least  interesting  of  my  acquaintances  in 
the  lovely  Italian  city  was  a  neighbor,  the  novelist 
Madame  Ouida,  whom  I  came  to  know  quite  well.  She 


SERIOUS  STUDY  BEGINS  67 

lived  in  a  palace  said  to  be  haunted  by  the  victim  of  an 
ancient  murder,  whose  ghost  went  shrieking  through  the 
court-yard  and  rooms  which  Ouida  chose  for  a  dwelling, 
in  spite  of  her  distaste  for  this  gibbering  relict  of  an 
older  day. 

When  I  went  to  call  upon  her  in  the  great  drawing- 
room  on  the  second  story  of  her  habitation,  filled  as  it 
was  with  a  multitude  of  chairs  and  stools,  screens  and 
cabinets,  stands  and  little  tables,  the  sudden  passage  from 
the  radiance  of  an  Italian  day  to  the  dim  rays  of  light 
which  filtered  through  the  closed  Venetian  blinds  left 
me  feeling  like  a  Columbus  setting  forth  upon  uncharted 
seas. 

Ouida's  old-fashioned  style  of  dress  and  slippers,  of  the 
sort  my  mother  used  for  my  occasional  chastisement, 
square-toed  with  ribbons  tied  over  the  instep,  are  still  a 
picture  in  my  memory.  She  had  never  been  beautiful, 
but  was  always  fascinating.  Her  feet  and  hands,  all  that 
remained  small  about  her,  were  always  in  evidence:  her 
dainty  toes  rested  upon  a  small  stool  before  her,  her 
hands  in  becoming  gestures  accompanying  her  speech; 
yet  I  judged  from  her  girth  and  much  augmented  com 
plexion  that  the  dim  light  was  a  concession  to  the  ravages 
made  upon  her  by  advancing  years.  She  was  a  strange 
creature  to  me,  with  curious  ideas  about  paying  bills 
and  about  getting  married,  escaping  both  with  unvarying 
consistency.  Her  creditors  began  suing  her,  one  by  one; 
and,  acting  on  this  hint,  she  began  suing  her  former 
suitors,  whose  tender  promises  had  been  unable  to  sur 
vive  the  strain  of  her  idiosyncrasies.  She  seemed  to  be 
as  erratic  as  she  was  erotic,  and  shocked  my  Quakerly 
"belief  in  the  sanctity  of  the  matrimonial  bond  by  assur 
ing  me  that  the  only  certainty  of  married  happiness  lay 


68         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

in   treating   one's   wife    as    if  she    were   one's   mistress. 

During  the  years  I  was  in  Florence  much  music  was 
to  be  heard  both  in  public  and  in  private,  and  I  often  sang 
for  my  friends. 

Enormously  pleased  was  I  one  day  when  my  master, 
Vannuccini,  asked  me  if  I  cared  to  sing  the  Offertorium 
the  following  Sunday  at  the  famous  church  of  the  San- 
tissima  Annunziata.  It  appears  that  some  one  connected 
with  the  church  had  heard  me  and  had  asked  Vannuccini 
that  I,  his  young  American  pupil,  be  allowed  to  sing  in 
the  church.  Vannuccini  was  willing  and,  much  elated, 
I  held  forth  on  the  Sunday  from  the  interior  of  that  high 
marble-walled  choir  beneath  the  dome  of  the  church, 
surrounded  by  monks  in  their  sandaled  shoon  and  shaven 
heads,  who  sang  the  rest  of  the  service  from  an  enormous 
illuminated  parchment  volume  of  Gregorian  chants,  which 
stood  upon  a  high  lectern  where  all  could  see  it.  This 
led  presently  to  a  request  from  the  clergy  of  the  Santo 
Spirito  to  render  them  a  similar  service,  which  of  course 
I  was  proud  to  do. 

I  also  took  part  in  several  concerts  at  the  Sala 
Filarmonica,  a  delightful  little  concert  room,  and  at  the 
request  of  the  distinguished  pianist  Buonamici,  I  became 
the  soloist  at  one  of  his  orchestral  concerts  at  the  Pagliano 
Theatre. 

Matters  so  progressed  with  me  indeed  that  I  was  in 
vited  to  Bologna  and  took  part  with  the  noted  pianist 
Barbirolli  in  one  of  his  concerts  there,  in  the  long  narrow 
hall  of  the  Liceo  Musicale,  which  centuries  before  had 
been  the  refectory  of  a  monastery.  At  these  concerts  I 
naturally  sang  the  songs  I  was  learning  in  preparation  for 
my  intended  career  as  an  oratorio  singer;  namely,  the 
music  of  the  older  Italian  School.  In  securing  Vannuccini 


SERIOUS  STUDY  BEGINS  69 

as  a  master,  and  in  studying  later  with  the  elder  Lamperti, 
and  also  with  Shakespeare,  his  pupil,  I  was  highly  fortu 
nate  in  having  such  eminent  teachers,  related  in  the  line 
of  direct  succession  to  the  masters  of  a  century  or  more 
before  them,  who  in  their  time  were  deemed  the  best 
of  the  day  in  which  the  art  of  song  was  at  its  highest  point. 

While  the  Italians  are  proverbially  critical,  yet  some 
times  vocal  sinners,  such  as  Vannuccini  deemed  his  pupil 
Tamagno  to  be,  were  accepted  by  the  public  and  indeed 
idolized  by  it  for  mere  strength  of  voice,  which  in  his 
case  seemed  to  be  enduring  as  brass.  I  remember  hear 
ing  him  render  the  tenor  part  in  Rossini's  "  Stabat 
Mater "  at  a  Sunday  evening  concert  in  the  Pergola 
Theatre.  The  audience  rose  at  him,  for  no  one  was  ever 
known  to  sing  the  "  Cujus  Animam  "  with  such  a  volume 
of  tone  as  his ;  but  at  my  lesson  next  day,  Vannuccini  was 
highly  displeased  with  what  Tamagno  had  done.  He 
said  he  did  not  think  it  singing  at  all.  He- called  it  "  bleat 
ing  like  a  goat,"  and  asked  what  could  be  done  with  a 
singer  who  knew  nothing  but  operas.  To  my  amazement 
he  told  me  that  Tamagno  had  not  only  never  sung  the 
"  Stabat  Mater,"  but  until  a  fortnight  before  had  never 
so  much  as  heard  of  the  work,  which  he  had  first  studied 
with  Vannuccini  for  this  occasion. 

That  night  I  had  a  great  lesson  in  deportment  from  the 
quartette  who  participated  in  the  concert.  The  dignity 
with  which  they  walked  upon  the  stage  from  the  wings, 
bowed  first  to  the  occupants  of  the  royal  box,  then  to 
that  on  the  other  side  occupied  by  the  Sindaco  or  mayor 
of  the  city,  and  last  to  the  audience  as  a  whole;  the  grace 
of  their  demeanor,  as  they  sat  in  their  chairs  beside  the 
conductor,  rose  to  sing,  resumed  their  places  without 
fidgeting,  or  acknowledged  in  a  restrained  manner  the 


70         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

applause  of  the  audience,  were  indeed  worthy  of  praise. 
Singers  in  costume  on  the  operatic  stage  behave  oper- 
atically,  but  in  this  instance  no  operatic  airs  were  either 
sung  or  assumed,  and  the  native  simplicity  of  a  wonder 
ful  people  seemed  to  shine  through  every  movement  of 
the  artists  of  that  extraordinary  quartette. 

While  in  Florence  I  saw  the  funeral  procession  of  an 
old  woman  locally  celebrated,  though  she  never  sang  out 
side  of  Italy,  who  was  said  to  have  had  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  voices  of  her  day.  For  her  several  of  the 
Italian  composers  had  written  operas  and  though  she  be 
came  an  idol  of  the  public,  which  she  served  faithfully 
for  many  years,  the  story  was  that  she  was  nearly  hissed 
off  the  stage  upon  the  occasion  of  her  first  appearance. 

Italians  are  particular,  not  only  about  voices  but  about 
the  personal  appearance  of  their  singers.  However  fine 
her  voice  may  be,  if  a  woman  has  not  fairly  good  looks 
she  stands  a  poor  chance  of  success.  The  artist  to  whom 
I  refer  was  so  plain  that  she  was  notorious  throughout  her 
quarter  of  the  city  for  her  "  homeliness,"  as  we  say  in 
America.  They  considered  her  bruta,  ugly,  and  frankly 
said  so,  though  every  one  along  her  little  street  knew 
and  loved  the  splendid  tones  which  they  could  hear  roll 
ing  from  the  open  windows  of  her  apartment. 

When  it  became  known  that  she  was  going  to  make  her 
debut,  all  laughed  and  shook  their  heads,  declaring  her 
too  plain  for  the  stage,  however  beautiful  her  voice  might 
be.  She  persisted,  for  she  had  found  a  manager  who  was 
willing  to  take  the  risk.  The  great  night  came,  the  whole 
town  was  present,  the  tradespeople  among  her  friends 
and  all  in  her  quarter  of  the  city  thronged  the  gallery  and 
the  pit,  the  bourgeoisie  sat  in  the  better  places,  and 
fashion  was  well  represented  in  the  boxes.  The  house 


SERIOUS  STUDY  BEGINS  71 

was  indifferent  to  the  other  artists  on  the  play  bill,  but 
became  tense  with  excitement  as  the  moment  approached 
for  the  appearance  of  their  much  heralded  Florentine 
woman,  for  Florence  does  not  differ  from  other  cities  in 
its  refusal  to  honor  its  own  artists  before  they  have  made 
a  reputation. 

When  this  singer  appeared  at  last  the  whole  audience 
burst  out  in  jeering  laughter,  crying  "  Brut  a!  Bruta!  n 
booing,  and  whistling  through  their  fingers,  but  not  in  the 
least  disturbing  the  singer's  poise.  After  trying  in  vain 
to  make  herself  heard,  she  walked  to  the  footlights,  mo 
tioned  to  the  orchestra  to  cease  playing,  shook  her  fist  at 
the  audience,  and  in  good  round  lingua  Toscana  in 
formed  her  townsfolk  that  she  had  not  come  there  to  be 
looked  at  but  to  be  listened  to,  and  that,  by  all  the  gods, 
she  was  going  to  be  heard !  At  this  the  audience  burst 
out  into  good-natured  laughter  and,  delighted  with  her 
frankness,  shouted  back  "  Bravaf  Bravaf  Go  ahead 
and  let's  hear  you !  "  Settling  down  to  the  enjoyment  of 
a  voice  which  immediately  captivated  them,  they  forgave 
her  every  feature  of  her  bad  looks  and  for  the  remainder 
of  her  long  life  she  was  the  idol  of  the  Florentine  popu 
lace. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OPERA    FROM   AFAR 

For  know  my  heart  stands  armed  in  mine  ear, 
And  will  not  let  a  false  sound  enter  there. 
—  Shakespeare. 

I  WAS  making  up  my  mind  to  cease  studying  in  Florence 
and  go  to  London  to  put  into  practice  what  I  had  learned 
—  for  if  I  was  to  begin  at  all  it  was  high  time  to  set 
about  it,  as  I  was  now  thirty-two  years  of  age  —  when  I 
met  with  a  curious  accident.  I  was  walking  on  the 
Lung'  Arno  and  carelessly  running  my  walking  stick 
along  the  top  of  the  stone  wall  bordering  the  river,  when 
the  cane  struck  an  obstacle,  went  through  my  hand,  and 
the  head  of  it  came  violently  against  my  Adam's  apple, 
the  bruise  rendering  me  practically  voiceless  for  some 
time. 

I  went  to  England  by  way  of  Switzerland,  and  while 
staying  in  the  Engadine,  was  given  the  rare  opportunity 
of  becoming  well  acquainted  with  Professor  Thomas 
Huxley,  the  great  English  scientist,  with  whom  I  had 
many  walks  and  long  conversations,  not  about  music, 
but  about  what  interested  him.  He  talked  exactly  as  he 
wrote,  as  I  discovered  when  I  read  his  books,  with  which 
I  had  not  been  well  acquainted,  and  was  being  widely 
maligned  because  of  his  refusal  to  concede  that  the  Bible 
as  it  stands  is,  as  a  whole,  inspired  by  God.  Upon  this 
subject  he  spoke  to  me  with  great  frankness,  defending, 
at  the  same  time,  his  distinguished  brother  scientist  Dar- 

72 


OPERA  FROM  AFAR  73 

win  in  most  of  his  deductions  as  to  the  origin  of  species 
and  the  ascent  of  man  through  infinite  ages  from  lower 
forms  of  life  to  what  he  is  at  present.  He  declared  him 
self  frankly  and  frequently  to  be  what  the  world  called 
him,  an  Agnostic,  one  who  does  not  know;  he  had  plenty 
of  opinions,  but  he  never  made  pronouncement  as  to  their 
infallibility. 

A  little  way  along  the  lake  where  I  was  staying,  I 
learned  that  the  English  actor,  Squire  Bancroft,  was  spend 
ing  the  summer.  Recalling  my  visit  to  Forbes-Robertson, 
I  determined  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Bancroft  and  to 
obtain  his  opinion  as  to  the  likelihood  of  my  success  upon 
the  metropolitan  stage.  Accordingly  I  made  a  little  pil 
grimage  to  Bancroft,  who  received  me  courteously,  but 
with  more  insistence  than  Forbes-Robertson  gave  me  to 
understand  that  London  was  full  of  singers  and  actors, 
and  that  if  I  were  not  already  preparing  for  Italian 
opera,  at  that  time  the  only  opera  performed  at  Covent 
Garden,  I  had  in  his  opinion  but  a  poor  chance  of  success. 
When  I  told  him  I  had  not  thought  of  going  into  opera, 
he  naturally  enough  expressed  great  surprise,  saying, 
"  If  you  are  studying  at  all  why  don't  you  study  the 
whole  thing?  Why  limit  yourself  to  oratorio?" 

I  came  away  from  him  a  more  thoughtful  if  not  ex 
actly  a  sadder  man,  realizing  how  foolish  I  had  been  in 
allowing  myself  to  be  influenced,  as  I  now  knew  I  had 
been,  by  my  Quakerly  bringing  up  and  my  good  mother's 
unreasoning  dread  of  the  stage  as  a  stepping-stone  to 
hell.  But  as  the  deed  as  done  was  only  half  done,  I 
went  back  and  told  my  predicament  to  Huxley,  who  gave 
me  sound  fatherly  advice,  counseling  me  to  make  the 
most  of  whatever  opportunities  came  my  way,  to  let  the 
past  bury  its  dead,  and  to  apply  myself  in  the  future  all 


74         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  more  assiduously  to  whatever  my  hand  might  find 
to  do  that  would  lead  me  to  the  attainment  of  my  desire. 

By  way  of  Bayreuth,  where  I  met  some  of  the  best 
German  singers  and  where  I  reveled  once  more  in  Wag- 
nerian  performances  and  rejoiced  in  the  part  of  Hans 
Sachs,  I  again  found  my  way  to  London  in  1889.  Once 
there,  I  set  about  making  all  the  musical  acquaintances 
possible  by  means  of  letters  of  introduction.  My  acci 
dent  had  left  me  unable  to  sing  well  enough  to  make  any 
attempt  to  do  so  before  the  public.  Even  Shakespeare, 
whom  I  sought  at  once,  gave  me  little  encouragement 
and  told  me  that  the  blow  on  my  voice  box  might  have 
sufficed  to  deprive  me  of  voice  altogether. 

Nothing  is  more  wearing  upon  the  voice  than  worry 
and  apprehension,  and  realizing  this,  I  did  my  best  to 
counteract  the  mental  depression  which  I  was  feeling.  I 
stated  my  case  to  the  eclectic,  Doctor  Tuckey,  whom  I 
had  met  in  Florence,  and  unreservedly  put  myself  into 
his  care  for  hypnotic  treatment,  which  he  advised  as  use 
ful  in  ridding  my  mind  of  the  fear  that  I  had  lost  my 
voice.  I  was  asked  to  recline  comfortably  upon  a  couch 
where  I  lay  looking  upward  and  squinting  at  the  spot  of 
light  upon  the  shining  object  before  me.  At  such  times 
Tuckey  would  quietly  reassure  me  by  saying:  "  As  a 
medical  man  I  know  there  is  nothing  seriously  wrong  with 
your  voice.  My  one  object  is  to  relieve  your  mind. 
Rest  quietly,  go  to  sleep  if  you  wish;  but  when  you  wake 
do  not  worry  about  the  condition  in  which  you  have  been. 
Think  cheerfully  of  the  future  and  of  the  success  you 
will  undoubtedly  make  when  you  regain  your  vocal  power. 
I  know  you  can  sing;  I  heard  you  in  Florence  before  your 
injury,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  soon  have  the  success  that 
is  your  due." 


OPERA  FROM  AFAR  75 

As  a  matter  of  fact  I  never  slept  at  all;  such  talk 
kept  me  wide  awake.     One  day,  however,  when  called 
from  the  room  he  gave  into  my  hand  the  glass  ball  which 
he  had  been  holding  and  said,   "  Hold  this  over  your 
eyes  yourself.'*     I  did  so  when  left  alone  and  my  eyes 
soon  closed.     I  dropped  the  ball,  and  when  the  good  doc 
tor  returned  he  found  me  in  a  deep  slumber.     I  began  to 
get  well  soon  after  and  I  sought  my  friend  the  distin 
guished   English   composer,    Sir   Alexander   Mackenzie, 
principal  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music,  whom  I  had 
met  on  several  occasions  in  Florence,  and  told  him  of  my 
disappointment  in  not  being  able  to  sing.     He  said,  "  Let 
me  hear  you.     You  used  to  sing  all  right;  I  remember 
you  in  Italy."     After  I  had  done  my  best  for  him,  he 
said  in  his  kindly  Scotch  manner:     "There  is  nothing 
the  matter  with  you.     Go  ahead  and  try  it.     There  is 
nothing  worse  for  a  singer  than  not  to  sing." 


CHAPTER  IX 

SPIRITS   AND   SOOTHSAYING 

There  needs  no  ghost,  my  lord,  come  from  the  grave 
To  tell  us  this. —  Shakespeare. 

THROUGH  Doctor  Tuckey  and  his  friends  I  had  in 
vitations  to  attend  the  meetings  of  the  Society  for 
Psychical  Research,  held  in  Westminster  Town  Hall,  and 
there  I  heard  a  number  of  the  papers  which  had  been 
carefully  prepared  by  Professors  F.  W.  Myers,  Sidgwick, 
Crookes,  Mr.  Gurney,  Sir  Oliver  Lodge,  and  their  as 
sociates.  While  not  going  into  these  matters  to  any  ex 
tent  myself,  I  look  back  with  interest  upon  having  heard 
the  first  public  reading  of  papers  which  have  since  become 
so  famous.  In  the  good  faith  and  earnestness  of  these 
distinguished  men  of  science  I  have  the  utmost  confidence, 
though  with  Madame  Blavatsky,  whom  I  also  met  at  this 
time,  I  had  no  patience;  but  the  cleverness  of  the  beauti 
ful  Mrs.  Anne  Besant  almost  persuaded  me  to  become 
whatever  she  was.  Fortunately,  my  head  had  been 
screwed  on  pretty  tightly  by  my  Quaker  ancestors,  and  I 
was  not  to  be  easily  blown  by  every  wind  of  doctrine;  I 
must  confess  however  that  though  I  once  went  to  an  ex 
ponent  of  the  New  Thought  for  the  toothache,  it  was  not 
long  before  I  sought  the  aid  of  an  accredited  American 
dentist,  realizing  the  truth  of  the  conundrum  then  current 
in  London,  "  What  is  matter?  "  to  which  the  answer  was 
"Never  mind,"  and  "  What  is  mind?"  the  reply  being 
11  No  matter." 

I  went  to  two  spiritualistic  seances  eager  to  test  for 

76 


SPIRITS  AND  SOOTHSAYING  77 

myself  what  Hamilton  Ai'de  had  both  told  me  of  and 
written  about  shortly  before  in  a  magazine  article  called, 
"  Were  We  Hypnotized?  "  The  query  was  intended  to 
solve  the  problem  whether  or  not  a  select  company  of 
clever  men  could  have  been  deceived  by  the  medium 
Hume  through  hypnotism,  or  by  some  other  means,  into 
believing  that  what  they  saw,  in  full  light  and  with  every 
opportunity  to  investigate,  had  actually  taken  place. 
If  these  things  happened  it  must  have  been  by  the  opera 
tion  of  a  law  so  far  unknown.  If  they  did  not  happen  — 
though  the  company  took  oath  that  they  did  happen, — 
then  they  must  have  been  subtly  deceived  into  believing 
to  the  end  that  they  saw  what  could  not  have  taken  place 
at  all,  for  it  was  contrary  to  all  human  experience. 

I  went  with  my  friend  Francis  James,  the  artist,  who 
had  known  Hume,  to  my  first  seance.  On  the  way  there 
James  told  me  that  he  did  not  believe  in  Hume,  and  yet 
that  in  broad  daylight  he,  and  the  others  assembled  in  a 
London  drawing-room,  saw  performed  the  act  of  levita- 
tion.  Hume  by  some  agency  was  lifted  six  or  eight 
inches  from  the  floor,  carried  through  a  long,  open  win 
dow  out  to  the  balcony,  along  the  whole  length  of  the 
balcony,  and  in  at  the  open  window  at  the  other  end, 
where  he  was  deposited  again  upon  the  drawing-room 
floor. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  house  of  the  professional 
medium  and  the  gas  was  turned  out  strange  noises  be 
gan;  the  rattling  of  pictures  and  maps  hanging  on  the 
wall,  knockings  upon  the  table  and  the  doors  leading 
into  the  passage  and  into  the  front  drawing-room.  I  felt 
hands  touching  me ;  heard  a  voice  speaking  to  me  through 
a  cardboard  tube  such  as  is  used  to  carry  music  through 
the  mails.  Before  the  lights  were  extinguished  I  had 


78         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

noticed  my  old  friend  the  zither,  which  presently  arose, 
as  of  its  own  accord,  and  could  be  seen  to  move  about  the 
room  over  our  heads  as  we  sat,  its  position  clearly  in 
dicated  by  a  large  spot  of  luminous  paint  on  its  under 
side,  playing  as  it  went  a  jingling  tune.  As  the  eye  fol 
lowed  it  down  the  room  it  reached  the  door  and  dis 
appeared  with  a  thud,  and  through  the  folded  doors 
could  be  heard  playing,  seemingly  in  the  front  room. 
The  sound  began  getting  louder  as  it  again  approached 
the  dividing  doors;  another  thud  and  suddenly  the 
bright  spot  reappeared  in  the  back  room.  I  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  astonishment  and  incredulity,  when  to  my 
amazement  the  instrument  settled  down  on  top  of  my  head 
and  played  "  Yankee  Doodle  " ! 

I  came  away  mystified  but  not  in  the  least  converted, 
and  to  me  the  whole  thing  was  hocus-pocus. 

One  of  my  companions,  however,  more  impressed  than 
I,  declared  to  me  subsequently:  "  Of  course  it's  all  non 
sense;  but  there's  a  lot  in  it!  "  My  judgment  is,  that 
whatever  there  is  "  in  it  "  goes  to  the  alleged  spiritists. 
Nevertheless,  sometimes  the  spirits,  or  whatever  they  are, 
manage  to  hit  off  something  so  startlingly  true  as  to  make 
one  thoughtful. 

I  used  to  visit  a  country  house  near  London,  where  the 
daughter  of  the  hostess,  a  woman  socially  distinguished, 
was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  psychic  subjects  ever 
known.  The  brothers  of  the  young  lady  were  officers  in 
the  Life  Guards,  and  every  one  in  that  household  of  the 
greatest  refinement  would  have  frowned  upon  anything 
bordering  upon  chicanery;  yet  no  one  could  explain,  and 
all  stood  in  awe  of  the  manifestations  which  quite  unex 
pectedly  might  happen  through  the  hand  of  their  sister. 
Though  not  normally  an  artist,  she  would  on  a  sudden 


SPIRITS  AND  SOOTHSAYING  79 

paint  pictures  indistinguishable  from  those  of  Blake,  write 
in  foreign  languages  with  which  she  was  unacquainted,  or 
extemporaneously  compose  poetry  of  great  grandeur.  In 
one  instance,  the  poem  thus  produced  afterward  proved 
to  be  the  translation  of  a  papyrus  found  upon  the  body 
of  an  Egyptian  mummy  in  the  British  Museum. 

This  lady,  who  knew  nothing  of  my  private  affairs, 
once  seated  herself  in  the  large  hall  of  their  house  with 
a  crystal  ball  in  her  hand.  As  she  looked  into  it  she 
soon,  began  to  say  the  names  of  a  number  of  the  letters 
of  the  alphabet,  in  no  apparent  order  or  with  any  con 
nection  with  each  other.  Her  mother,  herself  writing 
down  what  was  said,  called  hastily  to  another  member 
of  the  family  and  to  one  of  the  brothers,  "  Note  care 
fully  what  she  says."  For  years  the  family  had  recorded 
everything  coming  from  her  in  this  way.  Presently  the 
sensitive  ceased  speaking,  and  the  three  after  comparing 
notes  and  deciphering  the  message,  every  word  of  which 
was  spelled  backward,  presented  a  paper  to  me  which  I 
read  with  amazement.  Let  me  say  that  I  had  been  puz 
zled  by  the  non-arrival  of  a  sum  of  money  due  to  me 
through  the  hands  of  an  American  agent,  Whose  honesty 
had  been  questioned  by  an  acquaintance.  The  message 
received  from  the  crystal-gazer  read  as  follows : 

You  must  not  be  concerned  that  you  have  not  heard  from  your 
agent.  He  has  been  ill  and  unable  to  attend  to  your  business, 
about  which  you  need  have  no  fear  whatever. 

This  was  on  a  Sunday  afternoon.  Upon  returning  to 
my  home  in  London,  the  first  letter  I  opened  in  the  mail 
Monday  morning  was  from  this  man,  enclosing  the  ex 
pected  draft  and  apologizing  for  the  delay,  which  was 
due  to  his  ill  health. 


8o         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Another  and  even  stranger  thing  took  place  for  which 
I  always  have  been  at  a  loss  to  account.  I  had  been  in 
London  but  a  few  months,  was  quite  unknown  to  the 
public,  and  it  is  altogether  unlikely  that  I  should  have 
been  heard  of  by  the  old  phrenologist  to  whose  quaint 
little  book  shop  I  was  taken  one  evening  somewhat  against 
my  will,  but  I  am  glad  to  have  had  an  experience  which 
has  always  remained  a  mystery  to  me. 

We  dived  into  a  narrow  street  off  Oxford  Street, 
near  the  British  Museum  in  Dickens  land,  and  climbed 
a  stairway  littered  with  books,  as  was  the  passage  from 
the  front  door.  The  old  man,  for  all  the  world  like 
the  figure  standing  upon  the  top  of  the  library  ladder 
in  the  well-known  picture  called  "  The  Book  Worm,"  led 
us  upstairs.  His  bald  pate  was  covered  with  a  black 
skullcap;  his  long  broadcloth  frock  coat  was  so  shiny 
that  he  could  have  seen  himself  in  it,  if  he  could  have 
looked  into  his  own  back  as  well  as  he  did  into  other 
people's  brains.  He  was  a  gentle  old  soul,  spoke  quietly, 
confidentially,  and  almost  affectionately  to  each  of  those 
who  had  sought  him  out,  as  they  sat  about  the  center 
table  under  the  gaslight  in  his  little  parlor  over  the  shop. 

He  walked  about  among  us,  quietly  placing  his  hands 
upon  the  heads  of  each  as  he  passed.  When  he  had  given 
each  person  a  somewhat  intimate  review  of  his  nature,  he 
said  that  we  were  all  surrounded  by  the  spirits  of  those 
whom  he  called  our  guardians.  Every  other  person  in 
the  room  accepted  his  descriptions  of  relations  or  friends 
who  had  passed  on,  except  myself,  for  I  was  unable  to 
recognize  the  presence  he  minutely  described  as  being  my 
guide  at  the  time.  He  said  he  saw  an  elderly,  clean 
shaven  man  with  gray  hair,  dressed  in  a  beautiful  gar 
ment  of  red  brocade  with  large  puffed  sleeves  over  a 


DAVID  BISPHAM 

as   The   Due    de   Longueville    in   Messager's   opera   "  The   Basoche." 
From   the  portrait  in   oils   by  Herman   G.  Herkomer 


SPIRITS  AND  SOOTHSAYING  81 

lighter  colored  vest  of  satin,  with  a  sword  by  his  side 
and  around  his  neck  a  heavy  gold  chain  from  which  de 
pended  a  great  jeweled  locket.  I  assured  the  old  phre 
nologist  there  was  no  such  person  among  my  ancestors. 
My  forefathers  were,  as  I  well  knew,  such  as  Michael 
Angelo  declared  his  to  be,  "  Simple  persons  who  wore  no 
gold  on  their  garments."  Standing  with  his  eyes  lifted 
ceilingward  and  gazing  into  vacancy,  the  old  man  per 
sisted  that  he  knew  nothing  about  that  and  could  only 
tell  me  what  he  saw. 

I  thought  no  more  of  the  matter  for  a  year  and  a  half. 
Then,  upon  the  occasion  of  my  first  professional  appear 
ance  at  the  Royal  English  Opera  in  Shaftesbury  Avenue 
in  the  opera  comlque  by  Messager  entitled,  "The  Ba- 
soche,"  I,  as  the  Due  de  Longueville,  found  myself,  though 
1  had  for  years  worn  a  beard  from  which  I  tried  hard 
not  to  part,  clean-shaven  at  last,  and  bewigged  and  cos 
tumed  with  sword  and  chain  and  locket  —  every  detail 
of  the  dress  that  the  old  phrenologist  had  described. 
Let  who  will  explain  this;  I  cannot. 


CHAPTER  X 

CONCERTS    IN    LONDON 

I  do  but  sing  because  I  must. 

—  Tennyson. 

MY  first  actual  appearance  in  London  as  a  singer  was 
upon  February  23,  1890,  at  a  concert  in  the  rooms  of 
the  Grosvenor  Gallery.  That  spring  I  sang  there  upon 
several  occasions  in  association  with  well-known  artists, 
among  whom  were  Johannes  Wolf,  the  violinist,  and 
Joseph  Holman,  the  'cellist.  It  was  there,  too,  that  on 
April  15,  I  had  the  honor  of  bringing  out  at  their  first 
performance  Stanford's  magnificent  "  Cavalier  Tunes," 
set  to  Browning's  words  for  barytone  solo  and  male 
chorus.  I  cannot  too  heartily  recommend  them  to  my 
barytone  confreres. 

I  appeared  on  April  30,  for  the  first  time  at  the  Or 
chestral  Concerts  at  Crystal  Palace  under  August  Manns, 
and  a  fortnight  later  I  was  performing  upon  the  stage 
of  the  Savoy  Theatre  in  an  operetta  by  Lady  Arthur 
Hill  called  "  The  Ferry  Girl,"  a  charming  little  Irish  story 
in  which  a  number  of  well-known  amateurs  and  ex-pro 
fessionals  took  part  for  a  charity  in  which  the  best  of 
London  society  was  interested.  My  work  in  this  as 
Count  Montebello  attracted  the  attention  of  Ernest  Ford, 
who  was  then  composing  a  light  opera  called  "  Joan;  or, 
The  Brigands  of  Bluegoria,"  in  which  he  asked  me  to 
perform,  the  book  written  by  the  brilliant  Irish  wit  and 
parliamentarian,  Robert  Martin.  It  was  given  from 

82 


CONCERTS  IN  LONDON  83 

July  i  Qth  to  24th,  inclusive,  at  the  Opera  Comique  in  the 
Strand  with  my  name  at  the  head  of  the  cast.  Had  it 
been  performed  by  a  regular  company  of  professionals 
I  believe  it  would  have  had  a  long  run;  as  it  was  it  was 
played  for  six  performances  to  crowded  houses.  In  it  I 
enacted  the  part  of  Bilboss,  "  a  bass  brigand,"  supported 
by  George  Power,  afterward  Sir  George,  who  had  been 
for  some  time  upon  the  stage  in  the  early  days  of  the  Gil 
bert  and  Sullivan  performances,  by  Cosmo  Gordon  Len 
nox,  a  collateral  descendant  of  Lord  Byron,  Kinsey  Peile 
and  Paul  Monckton,  the  playwrights,  and  the  author, 
who  was  an  admirable  comedian.  The  leading  lady  was 
Mrs.  Godfrey  Pearse,  a  musical  hostess  with  an  exquisite 
though  small  voice,  whose  parents  were  none  other  than 
the  famous  tenor  Mario  and  his  equally  celebrated  wife 
Madame  Grisi. 

I  sang  in  several  other  concerts  in  London,  Liverpool, 
and  elsewhere,  before  appearing  for  the  first  time  at 
Covent  Garden  Theatre  in  the  autumn  series  of  prom 
enade  concerts  being  given  in  the  historic  auditorium  that 
year.  It  was  at  one  of  these  that  I  first  sang  with  Sims 
Reeves,  then  approaching  his  sixty-eighth  birthday.  He 
had  been  upon  the  stage  since  his  seventeenth  year,  when 
he  made  his  first  appearance  as  Count  Rudolfo  in  "  La 
Sonnambula."  Reeves  had  expressed  his  intention  of  re 
tiring  from  the  stage  in  1882;  but  1890  found  him  still 
singing,  as  he  continued  to  do  so  for  several  years  longer. 
It  is  interesting  to  note,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Reeves 
so  often  disappointed  his  admirers,  that  upon  the  oc 
casion  to  which  I  refer,  an  -ample  array  of  artists  had  been 
engaged  in  order  to  satisfy  the  most  fastidious  among 
the  audience  which  was  expected  and  which  duly  gath 
ered.  Against  the  chance  of  Mr.  Reeves's  treating  the 


84         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

management  to  one  of  his  frequent  "  indispositions  "  four 
teen  soloists  had  been  engaged,  besides  the  military  band 
of  the  Scots  Guards  and  an  orchestra  of  a  hundred  and 
fifty  pieces.  But  Reeves  appeared  and  sang,  as  only 
Reeves  could  sing,  "  When  Other  Hearts  and  Other 
Lips  "  from  "  The  Bohemian  Girl  "  and,  by  special  re 
quest,  Charles  Dibdin's  fine  old  ballad,  "  The  Bay  of  Bis 
cay."  Being  unusually  good-natured,  he  added  as  en 
cores  "  Sally  in  Our  Alley,"  sung  with  exquisite  grace, 
and  his  favorite  "  Tom  Bowling," 

I  had  first  endeavored  to  hear  Reeves  in  1878,  at  St. 
James's  Hall  where  he  was  announced  to  sing  surrounded 
by  a  galaxy  of  other  great  artists.  When  the  time  came 
for  his  appearance,  some  one  read  a  telegram  from  him 
announcing,  with  much  regret,  that  he  had  caught  a  se 
vere  cold  and  would  not  be  able  to  fulfill  his  engagement. 
There  was  breathless  silence  until  the  end  of  the  message, 
when  loud  comments  and  laughter,  almost  jeering  laugh 
ter,  arose  from  all  parts  of  the  concert  room.  Inquiry 
proved  that  it  was  Reeves's  custom  thus  to  treat  his  au 
diences,  though  they  invariably  crowded  to  hear  him. 
Though  disappointed  three  times  out  of  four,  their  de 
votion  was  such  that  they  returned  upon  the  next  an 
nouncement  of  his  singing  in  the  hope  that  at  last  they 
might  be  lucky  enough  to  listen  to  the  celebrated  man. 
I  was  amazed  to  learn  that  Reeves  was  paid  the  sum 
of  sixty  guineas  (about  $300)  for  singing  and  that  it 
was  also  stipulated  that  in  the  event  of  his  not  singing 
he  was  still  to  have  forty  guineas.  The  management 
could  rely  with  such  confidence  upon  the  drawing  power 
of  this  remarkable  gentleman  that  they  had  only  to 
guard  against  any  great  number  of  persons  leaving  the 
hall  and  demanding  their  money  back  by  the  excellence 


CONCERTS  IN  LONDON  85 

of  the  rest  of  the  concert,  for  which  several  popular  fav 
orites  were  always  engaged. 

The  reason  for  his  frequent  disappointments  of  the 
public  was  said  to  be  his  good  wife's  solicitude  for  his 
health.  He  would  get  up  in  the  morning  and  sing  a  little 
while  dressing.  Naturally  his  voice  was  not  in  prime 
condition  then,  but  Mrs.  Reeves  would  say:  "  Oh, 
Gardy  dear"  (she  never  forgot  that  he  had  been  Ed- 
gardo  in  "  Lucia  ") ,  "  I  am  sure  you  have  a  dreadful  cold 
to-day.  I  will  send  a  telegram  saying  it  is  impossible  for 
you  to  appear  this  evening."  Indeed  it  is  said  she  almost 
wrought  his  ruin  by  the  undue  care  she  took  of  him. 

It  has  been  my  luck  to  miss  very  few  engagements,  but 
once  I  missed  my  train  to  Ipswich  through  Queen  Vic 
toria's  return  to  London,  which  halted  traffic  in  the  street 
I  had  to  take  to  the  station.  Greatly  concerned,  I  sent 
a  telegram  of  abject  apology,  only  to  receive  the  cutting 
reply :  u  A  Reeves  can  scarcely  afford  to  disappoint  an 
audience;  certainly  not  a  Bispham."  I  was  crushed! 

Less  than  three  weeks  after  the  Covent  Garden  prom 
enade  concert  at  which  Reeves  appeared,  I  was  called 
upon  suddenly  to  join  his  concert  company  on  tour,  re 
placing  a  singer  who  had  been  taken  ill.  This  so-called 
"  farewell  tour  "  was  arranged  by  an  astute  manager  who 
in  his  contract  expressly  stipulated  that  Mrs.  Reeves 
should  not  travel  with  him,  knowing  full  well  that  the 
aged  lady  would  exercise  her  old-time  wiles  and,  if  she 
could  do  so,  would  prevent  him  from  singing. 

As  it  was,  we  younger  people  of  the  company  were 
charged  with  the  duty  of  keeping  our  chief  amused  and 
pleased,  never  crossing  him  in  any  way,  taking  walks  or 
drives  with  him,  playing  billiards  and  otherwise  causing 
him  to  forget  that  he  was  a  tenor.  The  results  were 


86         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

eminently  satisfactory  to  every  one  concerned,  for  during 
my  connection  with  his  company  he  never  disappointed  an 
audience,  though  we  sang  every  night  and  traveled  to 
some  other  city  the  next  day.  So  much  for  the  sensible 
management  of  a  singer. 

While  with  Reeves,  I  found  myself  associated  with 
Miss  Amy  Sherwin,  soprano,  Percy  Sharman,  violinist, 
and  an  excellent  one  he  was,  and  the  erratic  pianist,  Mile. 
Janotha,  who  was  always  designated  on  the  bill  as  "  Solo 
Pianist  to  H.  I.  M.  the  Emperor  of  Germany."  This  was 
probably  the  reason  why  she  rarely  if  ever  spoke  to  any 
of  us  except  at  the  concert,  and  then  as  little  as  possible, 
devoting  her  time  to  a  magnificent  cat  which  she  took 
everywhere  with  her,  spending  the  intervals  at  concerts  in 
conversation  with  this  animal,  or  in  telling  her  beads,  for 
she  was  a  devout  Catholic. 

Many  public  performers  have  fads  or  mannerisms 
which  are  their  specialties,  their  trade-marks,  as  it  were. 
One  of  Reeves's  was  his  persistent  determination  to  give 
no  encore  in  response  to  the  applause  after  his  first  ap 
pearance  upon  the  program.  If  down  for  two  selec 
tions,  one  in  each  part  of  the  concert,  he  asserted  that 
the  audience  had  no  right  to  demand  more  of  him  than 
these  two  pieces;  but,  if  he  chose  to  give  an  encore,  as  of 
course  he  did  after  the  second  selection,  that  was  his  gra 
cious  donation,  and  no  concession  to  any  demand  the  au 
dience  might  make.  The  fact  is,  "  Needs  must  when  the 
devil  drives,"  as  the  old  proverb  has  it,  and  Reeves  did 
not  want  to  sing  any  more  than  he  actually  had  to.  But 
if  he  felt  well  and  was  sufficiently  flattered  he  would  often 
respond  to  two,  sometimes  three  encores,  as  he  had  fre 
quently  done  on  our  concert  tour. 


CONCERTS  IN  LONDON  87 

Reeves  used  to  recount  to  us  many  tales  of  his  days 
upon  the  operatic  stage,  when  he  was  without  a  peer 
among  tenors  and  was  also  in  the  heyday  of  his  glory  as 
an  oratorio  singer.  Among  his  experiences  in  the  concert 
field,  he  told  with  great  glee  of  an  occasion  in  Scotland 
when  he  was  the  soloist  for  a  choral  society  which  as 
sisted  him  in  one  or  two  numbers  as  he  sang  the  solo  parts. 
One  of  the  selections  was  Spofforth's  charming  madrigal, 
"  Hail,  Smiling  Morn,"  at  one  part  of  which  the  tenor 
sings  "  At  whose  bright  presence  darkness  flies  away  "  and 
the  chorus  should  reply  "  flies  away."  What  was  the 
tenor's  amusement  to  find  the  echo  repeated  by  the  ac 
companying  choristers  in  a  broad  Scotch  burr.  "  At 
whose  bright  presence  darkness  flies  away  "  sang  Reeves; 
but  the  chorus  replied  "  flees  awa' !  "  and  broke  up  the 
sobriety  of  even  a  Scottish  audience. 

Upon  this  tour  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  for  the 
first  time  Burns's  country  and  of  making  acquaintance 
with  the  bagpipes  upon  their  native  heath;  and  Reeves 
told  me  the  story  of  the  Scot  who  meets  in  the  street  a 
friend  broadly  smiling.  "  Eh,  Sandy,  what  it  is  makes  ye 
look  sae  happy  the  day?  "  says  he,  and  Sandy  answers, 
"  Eh,  mon,  I  dreamit  that  I  was  in  Heeven.  I  dreamit 
there  was  seeven-an'-thirrty  pipers  a'  playin'  deeferent 
tunes  at  the  same  time  in  a  sma'  room.  Eh,  it  was  just 
Heeven!" 

The  statement  I  once  heard  that  the  Scotch  are  very 
earnest  but  hardly  serious  enough  is  contradicted  by  the 
tale  of  the  man  who  came  down  an  Edinburgh  street  on 
a  Sunday  morning  with  a  lilt  in  his  walk  and  a  tune  on 
his  lips.  A  friend  stopped  with  "  Eh,  mon,  have  a  care, 
have  a  care.  You'd  better  mind  what  you're  aboot !  " 


88         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

"  What  is  the  nratter?  "  asked  the  smiling  man.  "  Have 
a  care,  mon,"  warned  the  other.  "  You  look  a'nro-st  as 
happy  as  if  it  were  Monday." 

Although  Reeves's  repertory  was  becoming  limited,  it 
sufficed  him  to  the  end.  Besides  the  pieces  mentioned  it 
comprised  "  The  Death  of  Nelson  "  by  Braham,  "  Come 
into  the  Garden,  Maud  "  by  Balfe,  "  The  Message  "  by 
Blumenthal,  and  "  My  Pretty  Jane  "  by  Bishop.  Yet 
when  his  wife  died  two  years  later  Reeves  was  not  only 
still  singing,  but  he  soon  married  quite  a  young  woman 
by  whom  he  had  a  bouncing  baby,  after  which  he  went 
on  a  vaudeville  tour  through  the  British  Isles.  The  last 
time  I  heard  him  was  at  a  Sunday  concert  in  Queen's 
Hall,  London,  October  6,  1895,  in  which  I  assisted. 
Though  the  power  of  his  voice  was  sadly  diminished,  he 
gave  a  most  touching  rendering  of  the  Passion  music 
from  "  The  Messiah."  A  grand  old  boy  he  was! 

There  being  no  engagements  in  prospect  after  the 
Reeves  tour,  I  went  again  to  my  beloved  Italy  to  study 
with  Lamperti  at  San  Remo,  where  he  spent  the  winters, 
and  profited  greatly  by  association  with  the  master,  whose 
rooms  were  crowded  every  morning  with  pupils,  who  sang 
and  were  listened  to  by  their  fellows.  I  ever  since  have 
believed  that  method  to  be  effective  in  any  studio.  He 
sat  there  in  his  easy  chair,  in  slippered  feet  with  a  rug 
across  his  knees,  mitts  on  his  hands,  a  shawl  about  his 
shoulders  resembling  in  his  drooping,  rough-clad  form, 
some  lean  and  slippered  pantaloon  sitting  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes. 

He  invariably  held  a  conductor's  baton  in  his  hand, 
and  with  it  would  alternately  drub  the  arms  or  shoulders 
of  some  careless  girl,  or  point  to  the  portrait  of  Marcella 
Sembrich,  whom  he  considered  the  greatest  of  his  pupils 


CONCERTS  IN  LONDON  89 

and  one  of  the  greatest  singers  before  the  public  of  the 
day  —  as,  indeed,  she  was.  He  had  no  patience  with 
incompetency.  Turning  to  his  wife  as  she  played  for 
him,  he  would  complain  of  the  stupid  possessors  of  beau 
tiful  voices,  u  What  can  you  do  with  these  people  when 
they  have  no  brains?  " 

It  was  on  this  visit  that  I  met  the  novelist  Mrs.  Frances 
Hodgson  Burnett,  who  had  already  attained  fame  with 
"  That  Lass  o'  Lowrie's  "  and  "  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy." 
By  her  I  was  taken  to  Bordighera,  a  few  miles  along  the 
coast,  to  meet  at  the  home  which  had  been  built  for  him 
by  his  admirers,  the  Scotch  poet  George  Macdonald,  who 
lived  there  with  his  family,  friends  and  servants,  in  a 
manner  fairly  patriarchal.  He  had  a  great  deep  room 
across  the  whole  front  of  the  house;  and  opposite  the 
door  as  one  entered  stood  a  massive  stone  fireplace  be 
side  which  was  placed  his  huge  high-backed  armchair. 
The  floor  at  the  end  of  the  room  at  the  right  was  raised 
and  there  stood  the  dining  table  at  which  family,  guests, 
and  servants  all  sat  together  at  every  meal.  Toward 
one  end  of  the  table  was  a  large  saltcellar  from  which 
every  one  helped  himself  by  dipping  his  fingers  in  at  will, 
and  "  below  the  salt,"  in  the  old  fashion,  sat  the  servants, 
one  of  whom  arose  as  need  required  to  attend  to  the  wants 
of  others. 

During  the  afternoon  our  host  read  to  us,  as  was  his 
custom,  from  Milton,  Shakespeare,  the  Bible,  or  selections 
from  Greek  tragedy,  in  a  superbly  simple  and  yet  grandly 
massive  voice.  The  whole  effect  of  the  old  man  in  his 
great  chair  impressed  indelibly  any  one  fortunate  enough 
to  hear  such  a  reading.  On  the  broad  mantelpiece  above 
the  poet's  head  stood  a  wooden  bowl  into  which  I  saw 
one  of  his  servants  reach  and  draw  forth  money;  it  seems 


90         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

that  our  host  would  never  permit  any  bills  to  be  con 
tracted  in  his  house,  and  insisted  upon  immediate  pay 
ment  being  made  for  every  purchase  sent  from  the  shops, 
out  of  the  bowl,  which  he  kept  supplied  with  small  coins. 

My  stay  in  Italy  was  interrupted  by  a  summons  to 
London  from  Mile.  Janotha,  whom  I  had  promised,  when 
on  tour  with  Reeves,  to  assist  at  her  concert  in  St.  James's 
Hall  whenever  it  might  take  place.  As  the  occasion  was 
to  be  a  more  than  ordinary  one,  I  was  only  too  glad  to 
make  the  journey. 

The  concert  was  given  under  the  auspices  of  Queen 
Victoria  and  almost  all  of  her  daughters,  including  the 
Queen-to-be  Alexandra,  and  I  was  proud,  indeed,  to  find 
myself  again  with  Sims  Reeves  and  the  veteran  Italian 
violoncellist  Signor  Piatti,  one  of  Joachim's  quartette. 
The  reason  for  my  appearance  at  this  affair  was  in  real 
ity  that  I  might  sing  certain  songs  written  by  Lady  Ten 
nyson,  the  wife  of  the  Poet  Laureate,  to  words  by  her 
husband.  Mile.  Janotha  had  edited  these  songs,  and 
I  had  the  honor  of  giving  them  not  only  their  first  —  and 
probably  their  last  —  hearing  upon  any  stage,  but  of 
doing  so  before  one  of  the  most  distinguished  audiences 
that  it  was  possible  to  gather  in  all  London,  Janotha  hav 
ing  made  as  much  as  possible  of  her  connection  with  roy 
alty  and  the  friends  of  the  friends  of  royalty.  Though 
Tennyson  himself  was  not  present,  he  was  represented 
by  his  wife  and  son  Hallam,  and  many  distinguished  per 
sonages  announced  as  patrons  of  the  concert  were  in 
actual  attendance.  To  me  it  was  an  auspicious  occasion 
and  the  first  of  many  appearances  on  that  platform. 

Who,  having  been  in  St.  James's  Hall,  will  ever  for 
get  that  wonderful  room  consecrated  by  the  greatest  art 
ists  of  the  world?  Yet  the  auditorium  on  the  ground 


CONCERTS  IN  LONDON  91 

floor  of  the  same  building  was  occupied  every  afternoon 
and  evening  by  Christie's  negro  minstrels.  One  of 
Leach's  most  amusing  drawings  in  Punch  was  that  of 
the  musical  amateur  who  had  issued  from  one  of  the 
classical  Monday  "  Pops  "  at  the  same  time  that  the 
crowd  was  pouring  out  from  the  minstrels.  Climbing 
upon  an  omnibus  beside  a  man  whom  he  had  shouldered 
in  the  crowd,  he  asked  the  stranger  if  he  had  enjoyed  the 
concert,  and  received  the  rejoinder,  u  Concert  be  blowed! 
Christie's  for  me." 


CHAPTER  XI 

OPERA    FROM   WITHIN 

Music  bright  as  the  soul  of  light,  for  wings  an  eagle,  for  notes  a  dove. 

—  Swinburne. 

THE  night  after  Mile.  Janotha's  concert,  I  attended  a 
performance  of  Sullivan's  "  Ivanhoe  "  at  the  Royal  Eng 
lish  Opera  House,  Shaftesbury  Avenue.  Before  the  eve 
ning  was  over  I  was  bidden  to  the  office  of  the  manager, 
D'Oyley  Carte,  where  I  was  offered  the  part  of  Cedric 
the  Saxon,  in  place  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  cast 
who  was  unreliable  because  of  his  erratic  disposition  and 
intemperate  habits. 

Consulting  my  master  Shakespeare  the  following 
morning,  I  was  besought  by  him  and  his  good  wife  not 
to  "  ruin  "  this  artist's  career.  I  replied  that  I  was  not  to 
be  accused  of  ruining  the  career  of  a  man  who  could  not 
hold  his  position,  but  I  promised  that  I  would  not  give 
an  affirmative  answer  until  they  had  tried  to  bring  him 
around  and  reestablish  him  in  his  part  at  the  opera.  In 
this  they  were  successful.  The  management  gave  me  a 
copy  of  the  work,  however,  with  instructions  to  learn 
the  part,  and  to  be  ready  to  return  at  a  moment's  notice 
to  fill  the  vacancy  if  the  artist  should  yield  to  his  besetting 
sin.  Though  nothing  more  came  of  it,  I  had  many  hours 
of  serious  thought  and  regret  for  my  lack  of  foresight 
in  having  left  opera  out  of  my  calculations. 

In  London  I  found  myself  associated  with  many  artists, 
among  them  the  pianist  Leopold  Godowsky,  then  coming 

92 


OPERA  FROM  WITHIN  93 

into  prominence,  and  met  the  American  contralto,  Antoi 
nette  Sterling,  whose  majestic  appearance  was,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  derived  from  American  Indian  ancestors.  She 
was  a  serious  woman  and  highly  religious,  considered 
opera  wrong,  for  herself  at  least,  and  had  devoted  her 
talents  to  oratorio  and  later  to  the  sort  of  ballad  that 
points  a  moral  and  adorns  a  tale  if  it  does  not  adorn  the 
artistic  side  of  the  concert  platform.  If  half  a  hymn  the 
better  a  song  pleased  her. 

Madame  Sterling  had  been  under  the  influence  of 
Quakers  in  America,  and  I  believe  had  joined  that  body, 
but  she  deemed  that  Friends  were  doing  wrong  by  not 
having  music  in  their  places  of  worship,  and  at  the  time 
of  which  I  speak  had  suddenly  made  her  appearance  at 
the  Friends'  Meeting  in  St.  Martin's  Lane  in  London, 
where,  moved  by  the  spirit  as  she  declared,  she  arose  and 
sang,  without  accompaniment,  Mendelssohn's  "  Oh,  Rest 
in  the  Lord,"  to  the  dismay  of  the  worshipers.  Some 
of  them  tried  to  silence  her,  and  others  supported  her, 
deeming  it  better  to  hear  the  song  through  than  to  have 
an  unseemly  disturbance  in  the  quiet  precincts  of  the  Meet 
ing  House.  She  ended  and  sat  down,  assuring  me  that 
after  the  meeting  she  was  surrounded  by  many  persons, 
who,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  thanked  her  for  what  she 
had  done,  devoutly  wishing  that  such  singing  might  be 
heard  regularly  among  them. 

In  the  summer  of  1891  my  mother  again  crossed  the 
ocean  to  visit  me,  interested  as  she  was  in  my  study  and 
career,  but  filled  with  apprehension,  dear  soul,  lest  I 
should  be  enticed  upon  the  stage.  She  knew  that  I  had 
been  successful  in  the  two  amateur  operas  of  which  I  have 
spoken;  and,  having  heard  of  the  offer  made  me  by  Sulli 
van,  looked  forward  with  dread  to  a  time  when  I  might 


94         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

be  tempted  and  fall  into  the  wiles  of  the  Evil  One,  as 
he  lay  concealed  behind  the  scenery  or  beneath  the  boards 
of  the  iniquitous  theatre. 

Reassuring  her,  I  made  her  realize  that  I  had  at  her 
particular  desire  not  studied  any  operas  at  all  for  profes 
sional  purposes,  and  that  were  I  offered  an  engagement 
I  should  have  great  difficulty  in  accepting  it;  yet,  at  the 
same  time,  if  such  an  engagement  should  come,  I  should 
be  the  most  foolish  young  man  in  the  world  not  to  ac 
cept  it.  It  would  be  unlike  the  spirit  of  an  American 
to  hold  back  from  anything  honorably  ambitious,  and  un 
wise  from  the  point  of  view  of  business,  for  as  a  family 
our  means  were  rather  small,  and  though  I  lived  quietly 
my  early  earnings  were  scarcely  adequate  to  my  needs. 

My  mother  left  England  saying  that  she  fully  realized 
my  position,  and  while  she  wished  me  well  in  my  chosen 
career,  she  earnestly  hoped  that  it  might  continue  in  the 
way  of  concert  and  sacred  music  such  as  oratorio,  and 
prayed  that  the  temptation  of  opera  might  never  be  of 
fered  me.  As  I  bade  her  farewell,  I  said,  "  Mother, 
what  would  happen  if  opera  should  be  offered  me?" 
"  Oh!  my  dear  son,"  she  said  in  alarm,  "  let  us  not  think 
of  that,  I  almost  hope  it  may  never  come ;  but  if  it  does, 
please  write  me  at  once  and  I  will  take  the  matter  in 
prayer  to  a  Higher  Source  and  let  thee  know  my  deci 
sion."  It  was  not  long  before  I  had  the  offer. 

Through  my  friend  the  composer,  Ernest  Ford,  my 
name  was  urged  upon  Arthur  Sullivan's  consideration  and 
I  was  requested  to  come  to  the  Savoy  Theatre  and  have 
my  voice  tried.  The  outcome  might  possibly  be  my  en 
gagement  as  the  Duke  in  Messager's  opera  "The  Ba- 
soche,"  which  had  already  been  translated. 

On  arriving  at  the  theatre  I  found  about  fifty  aspirants 


OPERA  FROM  WITHIN  95 

for  operatic  honors  sitting  about  the  stage  or  in  the  body 
of  the  house.  These  were  called  one  by  one,  young  men 
and  young  women,  who  proceeded  to  sing  the  songs  they 
had  brought  with  them,  everybody  being  nervous.  Par 
ticularly  good  voices  were  made  note  of,  the  names  and 
addresses  of  their  owners  set  down  in  a  book,  to  be  called 
upon  if  parts  were  vacant  in  any  of  the  companies  on  the 
road.  The  Savoy  Theatre  had  been  an  institution  for 
years,  companies  from  it  went  not  only  over  Great  Brit 
ain  but  over  the  whole  English-speaking  world.  Every 
thing  was  done  in  a  businesslike  and  yet  artistic  manner. 
No  favoritism  was  shown,  as  I  knew  well  afterward,  and 
the  company  of  the  Savoy  Theatre  itself  was  a  model 
one.  Artists  of  good  reputation  and  fine  voices  were 
chosen  in  the  first  place,  retained  their  positions  for  many 
years,  and  the  company's  work  was  consequently  of  the 
highest  order. 

As  my  turn  drew  near  my  nerves  were  on  edge.  I  was 
not  in  the  best  vocal  condition;  but  I  was  in  for  it  and  had 
to  go  through  with  it.  No  comment  was  made  upon  my 
singing.  My  name  and  address  were  taken  down  and  I 
felt  that  perhaps  I  was  not  altogether  hopeless. 

Time  passed  and  I  did  not  hear  from  the  Savoy  Thea 
tre,  but  continued  with  the  concerts  that  came  my  way, 
upon  one  occasion  appearing  on  the  program  with 
several  artists  of  the  Savoy  Theatre  and  some  well-known 
actors,  thus  seeming  to  be  brought  in  touch  with  what 
after  all  I  could  not  grasp,  standing  at  the  foot  of  a 
ladder  which  I  feared  I  was  not  to  be  permitted  to  mount. 
Yet  in  about  a  month  I  was  surprised  by  being  asked 
to  come  again  to  the  Savoy  Theatre,  where  I  was  invited 
into  the  private  office  of  Mr.  Carte  and  found  my  friend 
Ford.  Notwithstanding  my  former  cold  I  had  been  ac- 


96         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

counted  as  one  among  the  promising  aspirants  for  stage 
honors,  which  in  their  own  good  time  were  coming 
around  to  me.  I  sang  a  number  of  things  for  Mr.  Carte, 
who  was  noncommittal.  I  did  not  hear  from  him  again 
until  one  wretched  foggy  day  when  I  was  suddenly  sum 
moned. 

I  arrived  with  galoshes,  dripping  umbrella,  and  mack 
intosh,  and  was  presently  shown  upon  the  stage,  lighted 
only  by  a  little  gas  jet  on  an  upright  stand  down  by  the 
footlights.  Ford  played  the  piano,  Carte  was  in  the  top 
most  row  of  the  gallery,  Arthur  Sullivan  in  the  back  row 
of  the  pit,  and  his  friend  and  adviser,  Mrs.  Ronalds,  in  a 
box.  From  these  points  of  vantage  they  took  account 
of  me  at  a  disadvantage.  I  was  asked  to  sing  and  to  act, 
and  chose  the  serenade  of  Mephistopheles  from  "  Faust." 

Though  the  part  of  Mephistopheles  had  long  attracted 
me,  I  had  never,  of  course,  sung  it  upon  the  stage.  Sev 
eral  years  later,  however,  my  manager  did  me  the  com 
pliment  to  urge  me  to  do  so,  and  when  I  demurred,  say 
ing  I  was  too  short,  he  replied,  "  Oh,  that  is  nothing;  I 
have  known  plenty  of  little  devils !  " 

I  have  since  been  told  that  I  have  a  way  of  creating 
an  atmosphere  which  causes  my  audience  to  forget  that 
I  am  merely  upon  a  concert  platform ;  but  on  the  occasion 
of  my  Savoy  ordeal  I  had  to  convince  three  or  four  of 
the  wisest  heads  in  the  world,  for  Alfred  Cellier  was 
present  too.  The  scenery  of  the  Savoy  was  wrong  side 
before  standing  against  the  wall;  there  was  no  illusion 
and  but  little  light.  Strumming  upon  my  wet  umbrella 
as  though  it  were  a  lute,  and  deporting  myself  as  though 
I  were  indeed  the  Prince  of  Darkness  in  disguise,  I  trolled 
out  my  song. 

To  my  amazement  I  was  then  and  there  engaged  to 


OPERA  FROM  WITHIN  97 

take  the  part  of  the  Duke  in  "  The  Basoche  "  which  went 
immediately  into  rehearsal.  In  this  I  made  my  pro 
fessional  debut  on  the  operatic  stage  on  November  3, 
1891,  at  the  Royal  English  Opera  House,  Shaftesbury 
Avenue,  now  the  Palace  Theatre  of  Varieties.  I  was 
then  almost  thirty-five  years  of  age,  and  should  have  been 
able  to  do  this  ten  years  before,  at  the  very  least. 

During  the  rehearsals  for  u  The  Basoche  "  I  found  my 
self  not  getting  along  with  Hugh  Moss,  who  was  putting 
on  the  piece.  He  was  an  actor  of  the  old  school,  and  I 
in  my  ignorance  and  inexperience  found  his  orders  irk 
some  and  was  not  doing  myself  justice.  One  morning 
at  the  midday  recess,  the  conductor  called  me  aside,  in 
vited  me  to  lunch  with  him,  and  took  the  opportunity  of 
giving  me  the  best  advice  I  had  ever  received. 

Cellier  said:  "  I  see  that  you  and  Moss  do  not  agree 
very  well,  and  I  must  tell  you  that  Mr.  Carte  and  Sir 
Arthur  have  observed  the  same  thing,  and  doubt  whether 
you  can  carry  through  your  part  acceptably.  I  believe 
in  you  and  so  does  Ernest  Ford,  and  if  you  will  take  my 
advice,  you  will  study  stage  deportment  after  our  rehear 
sals  here.  Go  quietly  without  saying  anything  about  it 
to  my  friend  Monsieur  Marius,  the  comedian  from  Paris 
now  playing  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre.  He  will  be  able  to 
put  you  through  this  French  part  better  than  any  one  else, 
and  will  give  you  the  lightness  of  touch  which  you  lack 
and  are  not  getting  from  our  stage  director.  Further 
more,"  said  Mr.  Cellier,  "  as  your  part  has  a  serious 
side,  I  would  suggest  that  you  go  to  some  Shakespearean 
actor  like  Herman  Vezin,  and  have  lessons  from  him  in 
a  different  school  of  dramatic  art." 

I  followed  Cellier' s  advice  and  immediately  arranged 
for  lessons  with  Marius,  which  I  took  every  morning 


98         A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

upon  the  Gaiety  stage  before  coming  to  rehearsal  at  the 
Royal  English  Opera  House.  Every  afternoon  after 
finishing  my  work  there,  I  went  to  Vezin's  chambers  in 
the  top  of  the  house  at  the  north  end  of  Waterloo  Bridge, 
where  I  studied  such  Shakespearean  selections  as  the 
quarrel  scene  of  Brutus  and  Cassius  from  "  Julius  Caesar." 
The  celebrated  old  tragedian  acted  these  out  with  me  in 
the  midst  of  a  room  filled  with  mementos  of  his  long 
career  in  Europe. 

I  learned  much  from  Vezin  the  tragedian  and  Marius 
the  comedian,  and  kept  my  counsel  at  our  own  rehear 
sals,  obeying  every  instruction  to  the  letter,  having  dis 
covered  that  another  man  was  being  prepared  in  my 
part  and  that  if  a  week's  trial  did  not  bring  me  up  to  ex 
pectations  I  should  certainly  be  supplanted  by  a  rival. 
This  put  me  on  my  mettle  and  I  resolved  not  to  lose  my 
job. 

I  had,  of  course,  informed  my  mother  of  the  great  op 
portunity  offered  me  of  appearing  under  the  best  auspices 
in  a  part  which  would  undoubtedly  suit  me  to  perfection, 
and  I  immediately  received  from  her  a  letter  in  which  she 
withdrew  all  her  earlier  objections  to  my  identifying  my 
self  with  the  operatic  stage,  adding  that  she  felt  my  career 
to  be  guided  by  Other  Hands  than  hers,  and  bidding  me 
to  strive  always  toward  the  highest  ideals  in  my  chosen 
profession. 

Moved  by  her  noble  self-denial  —  for  what  touched 
me,  her  only  child,  was  touching  her  very  life  —  I  re 
solved  ever  after  to  live  up  to  the  best  that  I  knew 
in  my  innermost  soul  and  to  hold  high  the  banner  of  my 
art. 

I  am  reminded  that  her  father,  my  grandfather  Scull, 
had  during  the  time  that  I  was  in  my  uncle's  office,  ob- 


OPERA  FROM  WITHIN  99 

served  that  I  had  musical  tendencies  and,  as  he  lay  on 
his  death-bed,  he  had,  with  a  generosity  entirely  unex 
pected,  given  me  a  check  for  fifty  dollars,  with  which  to 
begin  the  collection  of  my  musical  library.  I  treasure 
nothing  more  than  the  oratorios  and  good  music  which 
I  acquired  with  that  money,  and  still  possess. 

About  this  time  I  gave  up  smoking,  which  I  found  was 
somewhat  irritating  to  my  throat,  preferring  song  to 
smoke,  each  of  them  evanescent  enough  in  itself.  If  I 
were  to  make  a  career  upon  the  stage,  I  was  determined 
to  put  aside  everything  that  might  interfere  with  it.  I 
had  smoked  for  years;  but,  after  four  days  of  successful 
struggle,  I  abandoned  the  habit  for  ever,  through  the 
simple  expedient  of  carrying  about  and  putting  to  my  lips 
when  moved  to  smoke  the  stub  of  a  lead  pencil  about 
the  size  and  shape  of  a  cigarette. 

Meeting  my  friend  Oliver  Herford  in  London  and 
telling  him  that  I  had  stopped  smoking  because  it  irritated 
my  mucous  membrane,  he  said,  "  Why  didn't  you  go  on? 
Very  soon  you  would  have  had  no  mucous  membrane  to 
bother  about."  As  we  talked,  we  spoke  of  London  not 
yet  having  American  "  skyscrapers."  "  No,"  said  Oliver 
as  he  peered  into  the  pea-soup  fog,  "  that's  a  pity,  for 
I  don't  know  any  sky  that  needs  scraping  more." 

At  the  time  of  which  I  speak  I  wore  a  pointed  beard 
which  was  reddish  —  my  hair  had  been  a  brick  red  as 
a  boy  and  still  had  its  golden  tint,  though  I  was  early 
graying  at  the  temples ;  but  I  fancied  myself  in  my  Van 
dyke  beard  and  did  not  dispense  with  it  until  the  last 
moment  before  the  dress  rehearsal.  Calling  that  day 
shaven  at  the  house  of  an  intimate  friend  on  my  way  to 
the  theatre,  I  was  announced  by  the  servant,  who  knew 
me  of  old,  as  "  the  Reverend  Mr.  Bispham."  Very  lit- 


ioo       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

tie  serves  to  disguise  me,  and  in  my  costume  I  came  upon 
the  stage  totally  unrecognized  by  any  member  of  the  com 
pany  for  several  minutes.  I  was  in  fine  voice  and  by 
reason  of  the  private  instruction  I  had  been  having  in  the 
actor's  art,  I  was  at  the  first  performance  of  the  opera 
enabled  to  carry  it  through  to  the  satisfaction  of  my  em 
ployers  and  of  the  public,  and  remained  about  six  months 
at  that  theatre  —  as  long  as  the  piece  ran. 

At  the  time  of  the  production  of  "  The  Basoche  "  there 
were  a  number  of  well-known  American  songstresses  in 
London,  who  had  already  come  under  the  notice  of 
Arthur  Sullivan,  and  from  among  these  were  chosen  the 
two  beautiful  and  gifted  sopranos,  Esther  Palliser,  a  Phil 
adelphia  girl,  and  Lucille  Hill.  These  ladies  with  the 
distinguished  tenor,  Ben  Davies,  and  myself  carried  the 
burden  of  the  performance,  which  was  well  received,  and 
I  found  myself  suddenly  in  the  desired  haven.  My 
voyage  through  life  up  to  that  time  had  not  been  tempes 
tuous,  but,  nevertheless,  I  knew  not  where  to  land  and 
settle  down.  This  engagement  so  auspiciously  begun,  I 
am  thankful  to  say,  gave  me  the  right  start,  and  I  bent 
every  energy  toward  assuring  myself  and  the  public  of 
my  standing  in  the  musical  world. 

The  designer  of  the  resplendent  costumes  for  "  The 
Basoche  "  was  Percy  Anderson,  to  whom  I  had  confided 
my  desire  to  play  my  part,  if  possible,  with  a  beard.  I 
still  possess  Mr.  Anderson's  sketch  in  water  colors  of 
how  I  might  be  dressed  as  the  Due  de  Longueville  while 
retaining  my  precious  hirsute  appendage.  Distinguished 
looking  as  I  appear  in  the  sketch,  it  does  not  resemble 
either  of  the  costumes  I  wore,  the  principal  one  of  which 
turned  out  to  be  in  every  detail  that  which  was  described 
to  me  by  the  old  phrenologist  as  being  worn  by  the  person 


OPERA  FROM  WITHIN  101 

he  denominated  as  my  guide.  But  the  fact  was  not  com 
mented  upon  until  some  time  later,  when  I  was  sitting  for 
my  portrait  to  Herman  Herkomer,  to  whom  for  the 
first  time  I  told  the  story. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   THRESHOLD   CROSSED 

Life  is  a  great  bundle  of  little  things.  8 

—  Holmes. 

AFTER  the  run  of  "  The  Basoche  "  was  over,  I  filled 
many  minor  concert  engagements  and  was  beginning  to 
make  a  little  money.  Bearing  in  mind  Mackenzie's  in 
junction  that  it  was  the  business  of  a  singer  to  sing,  I  real 
ized,  too,  that  there  was  no  business  in  it  if  the  singer  did 
not  get  paid  for  his  song  or  strive  for  his  own  advance 
ment,  and  I  let  no  stone  remain  unturned  in  my  path  up 
the  hill.  I  sang  wherever  I  was  asked  to  sing,  and  took 
a  moderate  fee  rather  than  none  at  all. 

I  joined  the  Lyric  Club  where  Randegger  used  to  di 
rect  the  Sunday  evening  concerts,  in  which  many  of  the 
foremost  artists  appeared,  and  I  also  belonged  to  The 
Magpies,  a  club  under  the  direction  of  Lionel  Benson, 
where  were  performed  madrigals  of  the  old  school  and 
the  best  modern  music  for  mixed  voices,  sending  several 
of  the  programs  to  New  York  for  the  information  of 
the  newly  founded  Musical  Art  Society.  The  member 
ship  of  The  Magpies  included  the  names  of  a  number  of 
persons  famous  in  England,  not  in  music  alone  but  in 
painting,  sculpture,  literature,  and  political  life,  and  of 
the  highest  social  station,  including  royalty  itself.  One 
of  Queen  Victoria's  daughters,  H.  R.  H.  the  Princess 
Louise,  Marchioness  of  Lome,  was  an  enthusiastic  am 
ateur.  Another  daughter,  H.  R.  H.  the  Princess  Chris 
tian,  was  also  an  ardent  lover  of  music,  and  sang  well. 

102 


THE  THRESHOLD  CROSSED  103 

The  Prince  of  Wales,  afterward  King  Edward  VII, 
was  devoted  to  music,  to  which  he  listened  at  every  oppor 
tunity,  which  included  constant  attendance  at  the  opera. 
His  brother,  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh,  was  no  mean  violin 
ist  and  played  at  the  first  desk  in  the  Royal  Amateur 
Orchestral  Association.  Another  of  the  Queen's  sons, 
the  late  Prince  Arthur,  had  a  nice  voice,  for  an  amateur, 
and  frequently  offered  to  entertain  his  friends.  A  noble 
old  lady  of  my  acquaintance  who  had  been  speaking  of  his 
vocal  performances  in  her  drawing-room  was  asked  by 
me  how  he  sang.  She  archly  replied,  "  Oh  —  like  a 
Prince,  I  assure  you !  " 

It  was  at  my  first  concert  with  The  Magpies  that  I 
introduced  to  English  audiences  Richard  Wagner's  fine 
ballad  "  Les  Deux  Grenadiers,"  the  words  of  which  had 
been  known  only  through  the  arrangement  by  Robert 
Schumann,  famous  for  fifty  years.  It  seems  that  Wag 
ner,  living,  but  almost  at  death's  door,  in  Paris  where 
for  a  mere  pittance  he  was  making  piano  transcriptions 
of  the  works  of  his  rivals,  happened  upon  Heine's  own 
French  version  of  his  well-known  poem  "  The  Two  Gren 
adiers,"  and  by  a  coincidence  set  about  composing  music 
for  it  at  the  very  time  that  Schumann  was  making  his 
version,  neither  composer  knowing  that  the  other  was 
thus  at  work. 

To  London  Wagner's  setting  of  the  celebrated  lines 
came  as  a  novelty,  and  I  frequently  used  the  song  which, 
notwithstanding  its  fine  quality,  is  undoubtedly  inferior 
in  dramatic  intensity  to  Schumann's  setting.  This  lat 
ter,  Georg  Henschel  used  to  render  superbly.  Once 
when  he  and  I  were  singing  in  a  large  miscellaneous  con 
cert,  Henschel  had  sent  in  Schumann's  "  The  Two  Gren 
adiers,"  while  I  had  contributed  Wagner's  setting  of  the 


104       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

same  ballad.  Upon  offering  to  change  my  selection, 
Henschel  replied,  "  Oh,  no,  let  us  keep  them  both  upon 
the  program;  it  will  be  interesting  to  see  how  the  two 
songs  contrast  " ;  and  it  was  done,  arousing  renewed  in 
terest  in  both. 

Some  time  afterward  while  being  entertained  in  Bay- 
reuth  by  Madame  Wagner  at  the  Villa  Wahnfried,  where 
I  had  been  upon  previous  occasions,  I  was  requested  to 
sing  her  late  husband's  setting  of  "  Les  Deux  Grenadiers," 
and  was  amazed  to  find  that  none  of  the  Wagner  fam 
ily  had  ever  heard  the  song  before,  though  Madame  Wag 
ner  told  me  that  she  knew  of  its  existence.  Indeed,  not 
excepting  the  many  celebrated  German  musicians  pres 
ent,  it  was  a  novelty  to  every  one  in  the  room,  save  the 
few  who  had  heard  me  sing  it  in  London. 

Beyond  knowledge  of  the  music  of  Richard  Wagner, 
the  ladies  of  the  Wagner  family  were,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
rather  unmusical.  Upon  the  very  evening  to  which  I  re 
fer,  after  Madame  Lilli  Lehmann  had  superbly  sung 
Schubert's  "  Erl  King/'  one  of  Madame  Wagner's  daugh 
ters  turned  to  my  informant  beside  her  on  the  sofa  and 
said,  "  Oh,  how  wonderfully  she  sings  that  great  song  by 
my  grandfather  Liszt!  " 

In  consequence  members  of  the  Wagner  family  were 
not  free  from  rather  frequent  raps  from  those  who  had  a 
wider  purview  of  the  musical  situation  than  they.  For 
instance,  Von  Bulow,  who  had  been  Madame  Wagner's 
first  husband  and  continued  his  friendship  with  the  fam 
ily  for  many  years,  visited  Bayreuth  about  the  time  to 
which  I  refer,  not  only  to  hear  the  master's  music,  but  to 
pay  his  respects  to  his  former  family,  so  to  speak.  On 
taking  his  departure,  a  great  crowd  assembled  at  the 
station  to  see  him  off.  After  the  daughters  of  the  family 


THE  THRESHOLD  CROSSED  105 

had  embraced  him,  he  seated  himself  in  the  railway  car 
riage.  As  the  train  was  moving  out,  he  arose,  put  his 
head  out  of  the  window,  waved  his  hand  to  the  crowd, 
and  shouted  out,  "But  there  is  one  greater:  Brahms! 
Brahms!  Good-by!  Good-by!"  With  that  parting 
shot  the  brilliant  and  eccentric  musician  took  his  depar 
ture  from  Bayreuth,  never  again  to  return. 

While  singing  in  London  I  met  many  times  the  gifted 
but  unfortunate  Goring  Thomas,  who  may  be  counted 
among  England's  most  talented  sons.  His  operas  "  Es- 
meralda  " —  why  is  it  never  given?  —  and  "  Nadeshda  " 
had  already  made  him  famous,  and  he  had  just  composed 
that  exquisite  cantata,  "  The  Swan  and  the  Skylark." 
Many  songs  added  to  his  fame  and  he  was  never  more 
productive  than  when  the  accident  happened  that  gave 
him  concussion  of  the  brain.  This  lamentably  resulted 
in  fits  of  madness,  in  one  of  which  he  threw  himself  in 
front  of  an  approaching  train  and  was  cut  to  pieces. 

That  most  of  Goring  Thomas's  operas  have  been  pro 
duced  at  Covent  Garden  in  Italian,  that  shortly  after  the 
opera  "  Signa,"  founded  on  the  story  by  Ouida  and  com 
posed  by  Frederick  Cowen,  was  also  performed  in  Italian 
at  the  Grand  Opera,  and  that  the  works  of  Wagner  were 
there  performed  in  the  same  tongue,  all  before  English- 
speaking  audiences,  caused  me  to  reflect  upon  the  futility 
of  the  decrees  of  fashion.  Nothing  but  fashion  and  lack 
of  reflection  in  following  fashion's  decrees  could  have 
brought  about  so  ridiculous  a  state  of  affairs,  whereby 
grand  opera  from  English,  German,  and  French  sources 
should  be  sung  only  in  Italian  —  and  that  before  English- 
speaking  audiences. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  English  is  a  world  lan 
guage,  that  it  has  an  enormous  and  precious  literature  of 


106       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

songs,  that  all  the  oratorios  are  sung  in  our  language, 
that  all  newly  composed  cantatas  for  English  festivals  are 
written  in  English  and  in  nothing  else,  that  for  these  very 
festivals  many  foreign  works  have  been  translated  into 
English,  in  which  language  they  are  sung  as  a  matter  of 
course,  yet  fashion  had  decreed  that  at  the  opera  Italian 
should  be  the  one  and  only  language.  The  Royal  Eng 
lish  Opera  was  started  with  Sullivan's  "  Ivanhoe  "  and 
with  plenty  of  money  behind  it,  as  a  protest  against  this 
and  as  an  effort  to  better  conditions  so  calamitous  that 
the  Royal  Carl  Rosa  English  Grand  Opera  Company, 
though  successful  everywhere  else,  was  year  after  year 
a  failure  in  London. 

Though  a  newcomer  in  the  metropolis,  the  inconsistency 
of  all  this  was  so  apparent  that  it  occurred  to  me  to  speak 
about  it  to  my  friend  Lionel  Benson,  conductor  of  The 
Magpies.  I  spoke  also  to  Alberto  Randegger,  teacher 
and  conductor,  himself  an  Italian  with  a  German  name; 
to  William  Barclay  Squire,  now  at  the  head  of  the  musi 
cal  department  of  the  British  Museum,  and  to  J.  A.  Ful- 
ler-Maitland,  music  critic  of  the  London  Times.  These 
gentlemen,  with  others  influential  in  musical  art,  were  in 
vited  to  meet  me  at  Mr.  Squire's  house,  where  I  laid  be 
fore  them  my  idea  that  perhaps  the  time  had  now  come 
for  a  change,  seeing  that  Germany  was  a  musical  nation 
with  a  rich  operatic  literature  and  that  France  also  had  a 
long  and  growing  list  of  operatic  works  for  which  per 
formers  could  easily  be  brought  twenty  miles  across  the 
English  Channel. 

As  a  result  the  company  present  composed  and  sent  a 
letter  to  Sir  Augustus  Harris,  the  well-known  head  of 
the  Theatre  Royal,  Drury  Lane,  and  of  the  opera  at 


THE  THRESHOLD  CROSSED  107 

Covent  Garden,  which  he  had  revived  and  set  upon  its 
feet  a  short  time  before.  In  this  Harris  was  asked  to 
use  his  best  endeavor  to  bring  about  such  changes  as 
would  enable  London  audiences  to  hear  French,  Ger 
man,  and  English  operas  performed  in  their  respective 
languages.  Harris  replied  that  at  the  time  he  did  not 
see  his  way  to  doing  this,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
idea  made  an  immediate  appeal  to  him,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  the  Italian  artist  no  longer  had  it  all  his  own 
way.  Germans  were  soon  brought  over  from  Germany 
to  sing  in  operas  of  their  own  school;  many  French  singers 
who  had  hitherto  sung  only  in  Paris  were  glad  to  have 
the  opportunity  of  rendering  French  roles  in  their  own 
exquisite  tongue;  and  operas  by  Englishmen  were  also 
heard  in  the  vernacular  of  their  composers:  opera  in  Ital 
ian  in  short  held  sway  in  its  proper  place,  as  we  hope 
it  always  will  do.  The  back  of  the  unilingual  system 
was  thus  broken,  though  for  some  strange  reason  there 
still  exists  a  prejudice  against  grand  opera  in  English 
among  many  of  the  fashionable  operatic  set  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic. 

Until  the  recent  advent  of  Sir  Thomas  Beecham  as 
an  operatic  conductor,  who  is  well  furnished  with  the 
wherewithal  to  do  anything  he  pleases  upon  the  stage, 
English  opera  had  never  fairly  come  into  its  own.  Let 
us  hope  that  the  way  now  open  is  kept  open  and  that  Brit 
ish  no  less  than  American  composers  will  be  encouraged 
by  the  public  at  large  to  give  us  of  their  best  without 
further  fear  of  the  unthinking  attitude  which  has  per 
suaded  so  many  among  us  to  regard  the  English  language 
as  unsingable. 

All  this  time  I  was  studying  hard  to  increase  my  reper- 


io8       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

tory,  while  tempering  my  character  to  meet  any  demands 
upon  it.  Almost  equal  to  the  possession  of  voice  to  a 
singer  is  the  ability  to  do  the  work  required  quietly,  sys 
tematically,  accurately,  and  without  giving  trouble  to  the 
management,  as  my  experience  in  "  The  Basoche  "  had 
taught  me.  Let  me  cite  an  example. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  artists  of  the  world,  not  an 
English-speaking  person,  by  the  way,  after  making  a  great 
reputation  in  Paris,  London,  and  New  York,  was  in 
vited  several  years  ago  to  sing  in  Berlin,  where  her  de 
mands  and  requirements  on  and  off  the  stage  were  most 
exaggerated  and  exasperating.  After  her  first  perform 
ance  at  the  Royal  Opera,  in  Berlin,  she  was,  notwithstand 
ing  the  success  she  had  made  with  the  audience,  requested 
to  end  her  engagement  immediately.  From  the  moment 
of  her  appearance  at  the  opera  house  she  kept  everything 
in  a  turmoil  until  she  left  it.  As  her  manager  once 
summed  it  up  to  me :  "  Confound  these  women,  the 
older  they  get,  and  the  worse  they  sing,  the  more  the 
people  want  to  see  them,  the  more  money  they  demand, 
the  less  they'll  do,  and  the  more  trouble  they  make."  . 

In  all  legitimate  ways  I  was  eagerly  pursuing  success 
in  my  professional  life  in  London,  after  the  conclusion 
of  the  run  of  "  The  Basoche."  Besides  numerous  con 
certs,  public  and  private,  of  greater  or  less  importance,  I 
was  besought  by  several  theatre  managers  to  go  into  light 
opera,  for  which  it  seems  they  thought  me  well  fitted, 
as  I  had  made  an  undoubted  comedy  hit  already. 

But  nothing  seemed  to  suit  me.  Tschaikowsky's  opera 
of  "  Eugene  Onegin,"  which  was  offered  me  and  which  I 
studied,  I  gave  up  when  I  found  the  character  did  not 
fit  my  personality.  I  was  declining  so  many  things  that 
I  began  to  be  in  considerable  doubt  as  to  what  course  I 


THE  THRESHOLD  CROSSED  109 

should  pursue  in  my  professional  life.  The  concert 
field,  while  interesting,  seemed  much  overcrowded,  and 
though  I  felt  that  I  should  continue  in  opera,  the  right 
thing  did  not  seem  to  present  itself.  I  had  reached  an 
other  crisis  in  my  life. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PLANCHETTE    AND   PROPHECY 

You  would  play  upon  me;  you  would  seem  to  know  my  stops;  you  would 
pluck  out  the  heart  of  the  mystery. —  Shakespeare. 

AMONG  others  at  a  small  dinner  given  at  my  house  in 
London  in  March,  1892,  was  Baron  Waleen,  a  Swede 
not  identified  with  music,  but  interested  in  the  investiga 
tion  of  psychic  phenomena.  He  brought  with  him  the  toy 
called  Planchette,  by  means  of  which  automatic  writing  is 
assisted,  and  after  dinner  we  tried  a  few  experiments. 
They  were  on  the  point  of  becoming  interesting  when  the 
conversation  wandered  from  serious  consideration  of  the 
subject  into  trifling  questions,  our  experiments  resulting 
in  nothing. 

A  few  evenings  later  I  dined  with  Waleen  and  his 
friend  Baron  Rudbeck,  the  latter  neither  musician  nor 
spiritist,  but  known  to  have  manifested  curious  psychic 
powers.  After  dinner  we  three  sat  about  a  little  table  on 
which  was  spread  a  great  blank  sheet  of  white  paper,  upon 
which,  under  Rudbeck's  hand,  Planchette  began  at  once 
to  write  rapidly  and  distinctly. 

I  was  not  touching  the  machine,  nor  had  I  propounded 
any  questions  to  it;  yet  it  soon  wrote  in  large  letters, 
"  Opera,  by  all  means."  Neither  of  my  companions 
knew  to  what  this  referred  or  saw  any  connection  in  it  with 
anything  that  had  gone  before,  until  I  explained.  "  It  is 
an  answer  to  a  question  I  was  about  to  ask,"  I  told  them: 
"  Shall  I  continue  in  concert  or  make  further  endeavor 

no 


PLANCHETTE  AND  PROPHECY      in 

toward  opera?"     Here  was  a  direct  answer  to  my  un 
spoken  thought. 

Needless  to  say,  we  three  were  interested,  and  grew 
excited  as  Planchette  went  on  to  reply  without  hesitation 
to  every  query  I  put  to  it.  Rudbeck's  right  hand  was 
resting  upon  it,  his  left  hand  covering  his  eyes,  which  he 
opened  only  when  the  instrument  stopped.  My  first 
spoken  question  was,  "  What  operas  shall  I  study?  "  Let 
me  here  remind  the  reader  that  at  this  time  I  had  no 
operatic  repertory,  "  The  Basoche  "  being  the  only  opera 
I  had  ever  learned.  Planchette  replied,  "  The  operas  of 
Verdi  and  Wagner."  I  realized  instantly  that  the  operas 
of  the  two  composers  named  contained  remarkably  fine 
barytone  parts.  But,  excepting  the  romance  to  the  Eve 
ning  Star  from  "  Tannhauser,"  I  knew  not  a  note  of  any 
of  them. 

The  next  question  I  propounded  to  Planchette  was, 
"  Which  of  these  operas  shall  I  study?"  The  answer 
was,  "  Ai'da,"  "  Tannhauser,"  "  Tristan  und  Isolde,"  and 
"  Die  Meistersinger."  We  sat  amazed.  I  was  pleased 
as  well,  for  no  better  parts  exist  than  are  to  be  found  in 
these  works,  and  my  next  question  followed  almost  as 
a  matter  of  course,  "  What  parts  shall  I  study?  "  There 
was  a  surprise  for  me  at  the  end  of  the  answer,  which 
was  "  Amonasro,  Wolfram,  Kurwenal,  and  —  Beckmes- 


ser." 


This  last  disclosure  puzzled  me.  I  had  heard  u  Die 
Meistersinger  "  sung  more  than  once  at  Bayreuth,  as  well 
as  in  other  places,  and  had  laughed  at  Beckmesser,  all  the 
time  so  loving  Hans  Sachs  that  I  was  then  trying  to  learn 
the  noble  music  of  that  role,  deeming  Beckmesser  too 
high,  too  unvocal,  and  too  difficult  for  me  to  consider.  I 
rather  fancied  myself  as  a  vocalist,  and  therefore  delib- 


ii2       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

erately  put  away  all  thought  of  Beckmesser.  Now  I  was 
bidden  to  study  it ! 

I  could  not  account  for  it,  but  went  on  to  ask  my  final 
question,  "  When  shall  I  be  engaged?  "  To  this  the  re 
ply  was,  "  In  a  couple  of  months  you  will  know."  After 
this,  try  as  we  would,  no  single  word  came  from  Plan- 
chette,  whose  board  I  had  not  touched  during  the  ex 
periments. 

I  was  so  impressed  by  what  had  taken  place  that  the 
next  day  I  secured  an  accompanist  and  began  work  on  the 
part  of  Beckmesser,  the  length  and  difficulty  of  which 
were  appalling  to  me.  This  labor  was  varied  by  study 
of  the  much  easier  roles  of  Amonasro  and  Wolfram, 
while  Kurwenal,  so  much  shorter  and  more  sympathetic, 
sank  into  my  mind  more  readily  than  any  of  the  others. 
For  two  months  I  worked  like  a  slave  on  these,  accept 
ing,  besides,  an  engagement  to  prepare  the  part  of  Al- 
berich  in  the  entire  first  scene  of  "  The  Rheingold  "  and 
the  part  of  Wotan  in  the  first  scene  of  "  The  Valkyrie." 
These  I  worked  up  with  Carl  Armbruster,  one  of  Wag 
ner's  assistant  conductors  at  Bayreuth. 

The  concert  at  which  I  performed  this  music  took  place 
on  the  afternoon  of  May  22  at  Ham  House,  Richmond, 
the  residence  of  Lord  Dysart,  president  of  the  Wagner 
Society,  which  was  invited  on  the  master's  birthday  to 
hear  selections  from  his  music. 

As  the  company  walked  about  the  lawn  after  the  af 
fair,  I  observed  among  the  guests  the  familiar  face  of  Sir 
Augustus  Harris,  the  impresario  of  the  opera  at  Covent 
Garden,  to  whom  I  had  been  instrumental  not  long  before 
in  suggesting  that  the  universal  use  of  the  Italian  language 
should  be  discontinued  in  opera. 

The  next  morning  I  had  a  message  from  my  manager, 


PLANCHETTE  AND  PROPHECY      113 

Daniel  Mayer,  to  say  that  he  had  received  from  Harris 
a  note  asking  if  I  knew  the  part  of  Beckmesser;  as,  if  I 
did,  I  was  to  come  at  once  to  Covent  Garden  to  rehearse 
it  for  performance  with  Jean  de  Reszke,  Madame  Albani, 
and  Jean  Lassalle,  the  barytone. 

As  I  read  I  thought  I  should  die -of  excitement,  for  now 
was  the  prophecy  come  true.  "  In  a  couple  of  months 
you  will  know,"  it  said,  and  at  that  time  I  had  been  asked 
to  do  the  least  likely  and  most  difficult  of  the  parts  I 
had  been  working  on.  Needless  to  say  I  accepted  at 
once;  but  the  rehearsals  had  not  proceeded  many  days, 
when  De  Reszke  caught  a  cold,  because  of  which  he  asked 
to  be  excused  temporarily  from  further  preparation  of  so 
difficult  a  role  as  Walther,  in  view  of  his  necessary  ap 
pearances  in  other  operas  of  the  repertory.  The  rehear 
sals  for  "  Die  Meistersinger  "  were  therefore  postponed. 

As  I  left  the  stage,  much  discouraged,  I  was  accosted 
by  Sir  Augustus  Harris,  whom  I  had  never  met  person 
ally  up  to  that  moment,  but  who  shook  me  cordially  by 
the  hand,  saying:  "  I'm  sorry  that  you  can't  sing  the 
part  of  Beckmesser  now,  for  it  is  going  to  suit  you  very 
well.  Never  mind,  you  shall  have  it  when  we  do  it.  I 
like  people  who  know  things  and  are  ready.  By  the 
way,"  added  he,  putting  his  hand  into  his  breast  pocket, 
"  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  the  German  barytone  who 
is  here  with  the  company  from  Hamburg  to  say  that  he 
has  a  bad  cold  and  cannot  sing  the  part  of  Kurwenal  to 
morrow  night.  I  wonder  if  you  know  that  part?" 

I  was  standing  on  the  stage  of  Covent  Garden  where 
the  trap  is  that  in  the  old  version  of  "  Faust  "  opened  and 
let  Mephistopheles  through  into  another  region.  When 
Harris  asked  me  the  question  I  felt  as  if  I  should  sink 
into  the  depths,  such  a  failing  was  there  of  my  heart  at 


ii4       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

being  asked  to  do  the  second  one  of  the  characters  which 
Planchette  had  advised  me  to  study.  I  remained  on 
deck,  however,  and,  pulling  myself  together,  I  answered, 
"  Yes;  I  know  that  part"  "  Good!  "  said  he.  "  Mah 
ler  is  having  a.  rehearsal  of  the  orchestra  at  Drury  Lane 
now.  You  had  better  go  over  there  and  take  your  book 
with  you.  Watch  carefully;  it  is  catchy  stuff,  you  know." 

I  knew  that  it  was  "  catchy  stuff  ";  had  I  not  for  more 
than  two  months  been  caught  in  its  toils?  I  went  over 
and,  sitting  in  a  stage  box  with  my  book  before  me,  paid 
every  atom  of  attention  of  which  I  was  capable  to  the 
music  of  my  part  as  it  came  along.  After  the  rehearsal 
I  was  taken  by  Gustav  Mahler  into  the  classic  foyer  of 
the  theatre,  where  there  was  a  piano  at  which  he  seated 
'himself  and  took  me  through  the  whole  role  of  Kurwenal, 
which  I  knew  perfectly,  leaving  him  satisfied  that  I  could 
do  it.  It  became  mine  on  the  following  evening,  June 
25,  1892,  without  further  rehearsal,  except  that  Max  Al- 
vary,  the  greatest  Tristan  of  his  time,  showed  me  the 
positions  upon  the  stage  before  the  curtain  arose  upon 
each  successive  act. 

I  may  say  without  boasting,  for  it  is  merely  a  matter  of 
record,  that  for  a  number  of  years  I  had  no  rival  in  the 
part  of  Kurwenal,  nor  in  the  part  of  Beckmesser.  When 
this  latter  was  finally  produced  I  performed  it  so  as  to 
insure  me  the  part,  which,  much  as  I  enjoyed  performing 
it,  was  so  strenuous  that  had  I  not  been  blessed  with  what 
my  mother  called  "  the  voice  of  a  bull  of  Bashan  "  I 
should  never  have  been  able  to  live  through  it  and  the 
many  other  parts  which  immediately  began  to  crowd  upon 
me. 

When  people  say  to  me,  "  What  but  foolishness  did 
any  one  ever  get  out  of  Planchette  or  any  other  so-called 


PLANCHETTE  AND  PROPHECY  115 

spiritistic  advice?"  I  tell  them  the  story  just  narrated. 
My  action  in  taking  the  advice  I  received  —  whence  it 
came,  I  know  not  —  resulted  at  the  time  indicated  in  my 
being  fully  prepared  for  what  I  was  asked  to  do.  In 
accepting  this  counsel  and  being  ready  with  the  parts  I  had 
been  told  to  learn,  I  was  undoubtedly  enabled  to  accept 
the  responsibilities  whose  execution  straightway  resulted 
in  the  foundation  of  my  operatic  career. 

So  I  was  engaged  at  Covent  Garden,  and  was  given  op 
portunities  by  Harris  to  do  anything  and  everything.  I 
was  in  no  position  to  pick  and  choose,  and  was  only  too 
glad  of  the  chance  to  obtain  experience  in  my  profession. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  I  had  been  advised  to  pay 
particular  attention  to  the  operas  of  Verdi  and  Wagner; 
that  I  had  been  told  to  study  the  roles  of  Amonasro, 
Wolfram,  Kurwenal,  and  Beckmesser;  that  "  a  couple  of 
months  "  later  I  was  actually  engaged  to  sing  Beckmesser, 
and  that,  upon  the  postponement  of  that  part,  I  did  in 
reality  perform  the  role  of  Kurwenal. 

Now  occurred  another  curious  thing.  One  day  as  I 
was  leaving  Covent  Garden  after  a  rehearsal,  I  was  ac 
costed  by  Castelmary,  the  regisseur  of  the  company,  and 
asked  whether  I  knew  the  part  of  Amonasro  well  enough 
to  take  it  that  evening  in  the  place  of  Victor  Maurel, 
who  had  notified  the  management  of  his  sudden  indis 
position.  The  state  of  internal  panic  that  ensued  — 
for  the  prophecy  had  now  come  true  for  the  third  time  — 
left  me  outwardly  calm  and  I  accepted  the  responsibility 
with  the  understanding  that  I  should  have  nothing  to 
think  of  but  my  part,  the  costumes  and  make-up  being 
supplied  me.  Castelmary  in  loyalty  to  his  old  friend 
Maurel  requested  me  to  wait  a  while,  saying  that  he 
thought,  after  all,  that  the  management  should  give  the 


n6       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

distinguished  barytone  another  opportunity  before  let 
ting  a  newcomer  take  his  place.  A  messenger  was  ac 
cordingly  sent  in  a  hansom  cab,  and  presently  returned 
with  word  from  the  great  barytone  that  he  would  sing. 
Though  I  did  not  perform  it  the  part  was  offered  to  me, 
the  third  of  the  four  characters  I  had  been  advised  to 
study,  and  I  was  ready  to  sing  it. 

I  have  long  intended  to  write  to  persons  of  standing  in 
the  investigation  of  such  matters  about  this  occurrence, 
which  seems  to  have  been  almost  beyond  the  possibility 
of  mere  chance.  By  some  they  may  be  set  down  in  the 
class  with  the  miracles  of  Lourdes;  by  others  attributable 
to  the  phenomena  of  science;  by  Sir  Oliver  Lodge  they 
may  be  attributed  to  spiritistic  influence ;  and  any  one  who 
has  read  Maeterlinck's  marvelous  story  of  The  Elberfeld 
Horses  may  readily  imagine  that  the  power  that  enabled 
them  instantly  to  solve  abstruse  mathematical  problems  is 
the  same  "  psychic  flash  "  that  illumined  for  me  the  un 
born  future  and  showed  me  the  path  I  should  follow. 
But  if  you  ask  me  my  honest  opinion,  I  am  content  to  ac 
cept  the  facts  as  I  found  them,  realizing  that  "  there  are 
more  things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  are  dreamt  of  in 
our  philosophy." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CLIMBING   THE    STEEPS 

Thither  our  path  lies;  wind  we  up  the  heights. 

—  Browning. 

MY  connection  with  the  Royal  Opera,  following  upon 
what  I  had  done  before,  immediately  increased  my  pres 
tige  in  the  eyes  of  the  purveyors  of  music.  As  one  result 
I  made  my  first  professional  visit  to  Ireland,  to  take  part 
in  the  Tercentenary  celebrations  of  the  University  of 
Dublin,  where  I  met  Professor  Max  Miiller;  and  before 
long  I  appeared  again  at  Covent  Garden  during  the  au 
tumn  season,  which  was  a  sort  of  aftermath  of  the  Royal 
Opera,  due  to  the  unprecedentedly  busy  summer  season  at 
the  two  historic  theatres.  It  was  then  that  I  had  the  op 
portunity  of  singing  several  times  as  Kurwenal  in  "  Tris 
tan  and  Isolde  "  under  the  conductorship  of  Armbruster, 
with  the  tenor  Oberlaender,  the  dramatic  soprano  Pauline 
Cramer,  and  with  Esther  Palliser  as  the  admirable 
Brangane,  which  she  had,  to  the  hurt  of  her  voice,  com 
mitted  to  memory  in  a  marvelously  short  space  of  time. 

I  also  began  to  have  a  share  in  the  production  of  clas 
sical  music  at  other  universities  besides  Dublin  under 
Robert  Stewart:  at  Cambridge  under  Villiers  Stanford, 
and  at  Oxford,  where  Ernest  Walker  and  W.  H.  Had- 
dow  were  leaders  of  the  new  movement. 

There  are  several  persons  whom  I  have  to  thank  for 
the  encouragement  they  gave  me  at  this  period  of  my 
career,  among  them  George  Bernard  Shaw,  then  a  music 

117 


ii8       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

critic  and  already  widely  known  as  a  Fabian  socialist, 
who  had  not  at  that  time  climbed  far  up  the  ladder  of 
fame  upon  which  he  later  mounted  to  such  dizzy  heights. 
I  have  always  been  treated  well  by  the  British  Press,  and 
have  nothing  but  the  kindest  feeling  toward  all  my  crit 
ics,  whether  at  that  time  or  afterward  they  gave  me 
helpful  advice  or  chose  to  differ  with  me  in  respect  to  my 
interpretations. 

J.  A.  Fuller-Mai  tland  of  the  London  Times  I  must  ac 
knowledge  as  having  been  from  first  to  last  a  constant 
friend  both  personally  and  professionally.  It  was  at  his 
house  one  night  in  December,  1892,  after  an  evening  of 
music  in  which  I  had  taken  my  share,  that  I  sang,  prob 
ably  for  the  first  time  in  London,  the  prologue  from  the 
new  opera  "  I  Pagliacci,"  the  part  which,  when  I  sang 
it  later  upon  the  stage,  I  always  rendered  in  evening 
clothes,  making  a  quick  change  into  the  clown's  costume 
after  the  address  to  the  audience.  I  consider  that  the 
prologue  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  story  of  the  opera 
and  could  as  well  be  sung  by  any  person  not  taking  part 
in  the  opera  itself.  It  is  the  address  of  an  actor  to  his 
audience,  in  which  he  bids  them  understand  that  we  upon 
the  stage  are  mere  human  beings,  just  as  our  auditors  are, 
animated  by  the  same  feelings,  made  of  the  same  flesh 
and  blood,  and  partaking  of  the  same  joys  and  sorrows. 

Among  the  conductors  at  Covent  Garden  was  Armando 
Seppilli,  from  whom  I  have  it  that  when  Victor  Maurel 
was  about  to  create  the  part  of  Tonio  in  the  city  of 
Venice,  he  complained  at  the  dress  rehearsal  that  there 
was  not  enough  in  the  part  to  give  him  the  proper  solo 
opportunity;  and  desired  the  composer  to  write  an  aria 
especially  for  him.  It  was  obviously  impossible  thus  to 
change  an  opera  which  had  taken  a  prize,  and  upon  this 


CLIMBING  THE  STEEPS  119 

fact  being  called  to  Maurel's  attention,  he  replied: 
"  Very  well;  do  not  change  the  opera;  write  me  a  pro 
logue  which  can  be  sung  in  front  of  the  curtain  before  the 
opera  begins  at  all."  Leoncavallo  immediately  ac 
cepted  the  suggestion,  went  home,  and  that  night  wrote 
the  words  and  music.  These  were  rehearsed  the  next 
day,  thus  supplying  Maurel,  and  every  other  barytone, 
with  the  finest  opportunity  to  show  his  mettle. 

Seppilli's  story  interested  me,  and  I  asked  him  how 
Maurel  had  dressed  the  part.  He  replied  that  the  sing 
er's  original  intention  was  to  sing  it  in  evening  clothes, 
as  the  prologue  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  subsequent 
story.  On  second  thought,  however,  both  Maurel  and 
the  management  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  plain 
black  and  white  of  conventional  evening  dress  were  not 
sufficiently  effective,  and  the  barytone  sketched  an  exag 
gerated  but  conventional  clown's  costume,  which  he  not 
only  wore  in  the  prologue  but  throughout  the  opera. 
With  this  I  personally  do  not  agree.  I  made  the  change 
into  such  a  dress  as  the  clown  of  a  strolling  company 
would  be  likely  to  wear  along  the  road  and  in  the  villages 
when  the  company  was  drumming  up  its  audience  for  the 
evening.  But  in  the  second  act,  the  scene  of  the  perform 
ance  upon  the  miniature  stage,  I  put  on  a  real  clown's  cos 
tume  with  pointed  hat,  wig,  and  baggy  trousers,  and  made 
up  my  face  over  again,  red  cheeks  and  all. 

In  the  numerous  concerts  in  which  I  appeared  in  Lon 
don,  wherever  I  had  choice  of  my  selections,  I  did  not 
fail,  while  introducing  the  classics  of  song,  to  honor  our 
American  composers,  George  W.  Chadwick,  Horatio  W. 
Parker  and  Arthur  Foote  among  them. 

I  also  performed  the  songs  of  many  of  my  kind  English 
colleagues,  among  them  Arthur  Somervell,  the  brilliant 


120       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Goring  Thomas,  Hubert  Parry,  Mackenzie,  and  Villiers 
Stanford.  The  latter  was  good  enough  to  urge  upon  me 
the  title  role  in  his  delightful  Irish  comedy  opera 
"  Shamus  O'Brien,"  which  I  was  unable  to  accept. 

I  kept  up  my  studies  with  Shakespeare,  also  practicing 
the  operas  of  Mozart  and  Rossini  with  Randegger,  or 
working  on  the  songs  of  Tosti  with  their  distinguished 
little  composer,  who  was  persona  grata  with  Queen  Vic 
toria  and  all  the  Court,  as  well  as  with  the  most  dis 
tinguished  operatic  and  other  musical  coteries  of  the 
metropolis.  Valuable  objects  are  done  up  in  small  pack 
ages,  they  say,  and  Tosti  was  no  exception  to  the  rule, 
being  undoubtedly  a  valuable  asset  to  his  beautiful  wife, 
who  literally  took  him  under  her  arm  wherever  she  went. 
The  story  is  told  of  her  that  at  the  conclusion  of  an  after 
noon  drive  with  a  handsome  duchess  she  had  her  carriage 
halted  in  the  jam  of  vehicles  at  Hyde  Park  Corner  by  an 
enormous  policeman.  Madame  Tosti,  looking  admir 
ingly  at  the  representative  of  the  law,  said  to  the  duchess 
in  her  charming  Frenrh  accent,  "  When  Tosti  die,  I 
marry  a  policeman." 

Among  my  associates  in  concert,  classical  and  popular, 
I  find  the  names  of  the  violinists  Tivadar  Natchez,  Jo 
hannes  Wolff,  Emil  Sauret,  and  the  great  master  Auguste 
Wilhelmj,  who  was  then  about  to  retire  from  public  life, 
all  of  whom  were  encouraging  to  me.  I  have  ever 
deemed  it  to  be  of  the  highest  importance  for  a  vocalist 
to  associate  as  frequently  and  as  intimately  as  possible 
with  instrumentalists,  who  by  reason  of  their  training 
are  generally  broader-minded,  better  musicians,  and  pos 
sessed  of  much  higher  ideals  than  seem  to  be  vouchsafed 
to  most  singers. 

In  the  early  days  of  1893   I  was  asked  by  the  dis- 


CLIMBING  THE  STEEPS  121 

tinguished  conductor  and  pianist,  Sir  Charles  Halle,  to 
take  part  in  a  series  of  his  choral  and  orchestral  concerts 
in  Free  Trade  Hall,  Manchester,  where  twenty-five  years 
later,  Woodrow  Wilson,  President  of  the  United  States, 
was  to  speak  upon  his  much  discussed  plan  for  the  League 
of  Nations.  In  Halle's  concert  presentation  of  Wag 
ner's  "  The  Flying  Dutchman  "  I  assumed  the  part  of 
Daland  to  the  Vanderdecken  of  Andrew  Black,  the  Scotch 
barytone,  who  rightfully  assumed  for  a  period  of  years 
the  mantle  which  was  falling  rapidly  from  the  shoulders 
of  Charles  Santley. 

Plunkett  Greene  also  began  to  sail  up  breezily  over 
the  horizon,  and  immediately  made  an  enviable  name  for 
himself;  as  a  song  singer  he  will  always  be  remembered 
by  those  who  heard  them.  His  interpretation  of  Irish 
ditties  was  quite  beyond  compare,  and  men  as  well  as 
women  were  at  the  feet  of  this  typical  Irish  gentleman. 

Edward  Lloyd  had  become  the  legitimate  successor  of 
Sims  Reeves,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  a  most  successful 
and  distinguished  career.  No  other  tenor  upon  the  con 
cert  stage  was  his  equal;  all  acknowledged  his  superior 
ity;  while  among  the  contraltos  the  name  of  one  who 
was  to  outrank  all  others  was  rapidly  rising  into  prom 
inence,  that  of  Clara  Butt,  whose  majestic  figure  was 
equaled  by  the  glory  of  a  voice  which  is  now  well  known 
throughout  the  world. 

I  am  proud  to  have  been  requested  to  go  with  Madame 
Melba  upon  a  short  concert  tour  in  England  and  Ireland, 
about  the  time  when  Verdi's  last  opera,  "  Falstaff,"  that 
youthful  emanation  from  the  brain  of  an  old  man,  was 
produced  at  La  Scala  Theatre,  in  Milan.  Bearing  in 
mind  the  advice  of  Planchette,  I  secured  the  first  obtain 
able  copy  issued  from  the  press  of  Ricordi,  and  had  it 


122       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

with  me  studying  the  part  of  Falstaff  as  I  traveled. 
Melba  expressed  curiosity  about  the  music  I  was  so  in 
tently  poring  over  in  the  train  one  day  and  I  told  her  of 
my  strange  experience  with  prophecies  come  true.  This 
interested  her  so  much  that  she  strongly  advised  me  to 
go  to  Milan  as  soon  as  our  concerts  were  over  and  hear 
the  performance  of  the  title  role  by  Maurel.  This  I  did, 
and  further  studied  the  part  with  an  accompanist  there 
and  with  my  old  master  Lamperti. 

Returning  to  London  by  the  end  of  February  to  ap 
pear  in  the  concerts  which  had  been  arranged  for  me,  I 
was  surprised  to  receive  a  letter  from  Mackenzie  saying 
that  he  intended  to  give  three  lectures  upon  Verdi  and 
his  latest  opera,  "  Falstaff,"  at  the  Royal  Institution,  and 
inviting  me  to  assume  the  title  role  in  it!  During  the 
following  year,  1894,  I  played  this  part  more  than  twenty 
times  upon  the  stage,  surrounded  by  most  of  the  company 
I  had  seen  supporting  Maurel  in  Milan. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WITH    MANY   TONGUES 
They  have  been  at  a  great  feast  of  languages. —  Shakespeare. 

ITALIAN,  during  my  second  season  of  opera  at  Covent 
Garden,  despite  the  change  that  was  obviously  coming, 
was  still  the  common  denominator  in  languages.  When 
I  was  given  the  promised  opportunity  at  last  to  play  the 
part  of  Beckmesser  in  "  Die  Meistersinger,"  it  was  with 
Madame  Albani  as  Eva,  Lassalle  as  Hans  Sachs,  and 
Jean  de  Reszke  as  Walther.  Here  were  artists  of  four 
nationalities,  and  the  opera,  sung  in  Italian,  was  made 
still  further  interesting  by  the  presence  in  the  cast  of 
Wiegand,  a  German,  Guetary,  a  Spaniard,  Hedmondt,  an 
American,  and  several  other  Italian,  German,  and  Eng 
lish-speaking  men  and  women.  Italian  was  the  one 
ground  upon  which  we  could  all  meet  with  satisfaction,  to 
ourselves,  to  the  management,  and  to  the  audiences;  these 
last,  of  course,  not  understanding  a  word  that  any  of  us 
sang. 

I  have  ever  held  that  if  u  Madame  Butterfly  "  were 
secretly  rehearsed  and  rendered  in  Japanese,  no  one 
would  know  the  difference  —  except  such  of  the  Mi 
kado's  subjects  as  might  chance  to  be  present! 

In  1893  I  made  my  debut  as  Alberich  in  "  Siegfried," 
as  well  as  in  Mascagni's  second  opera,  "  I  Rantzau,"  un 
der  the  baton  of  the  composer,  and  performed  also  the 
part  of  Hunding  in  "  The  Valkyrie,"  with  Alvary. 

The  grand  opera  season  of  1893  was  not  yet  finished 

123 


124       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

when  I  was  engaged  to  go  on  tour  with  the  company 
from  Covent  Garden,  to  which  had  been  added  most  of 
the  members  of  the  "  Falstaff  "  cast  from  Milan.  Dur 
ing  this  tour  of  the  British  provinces,  I  was  given  my 
chance  of  performing  new  roles  on  which  I  had  been  as 
siduously  working,  in  addition  to  my  other  duties. 
Among  them  were  Falstaff,  Nevers  in  "  Les  Huguenots," 
Alfio  in  "  Cavalleria  Rusticana,"  and  the  Toreador  in 
"  Carmen.1*  I  gained  a  deal  of  experience  on  this  tour, 
the  bright  particular  spot  in  which  was  the  superb  per 
formance  of  Gluck's  "  Orfeo  "  by  Julia  Ravogli.  On  its 
conclusion  I  filled  another  engagement  at  Crystal  Palace 
at  the  Saturday  orchestral  concert  under  August  Manns, 
when  Miss  Emma  Juch  made  her  first  appearance  after 
her  brilliant  operatic  successes  in  Europe  a  few  seasons 
before. 

In  concerts  I  was  a  new  quantity  to  the  purveyors  of 
music,  who  declared  that  I  almost  invariably  sang  over 
tfie  heads  of  my  audiences,  selecting  pieces  which  in  their 
opinion  were  "  caviar  to  the  general."  My  concert  rep 
ertory  certainly  included  what  I  enjoyed  singing:  airs 
by  Handel,  selections  from  Purcell,  ballads  by  Loewe, 
pieces  by  Schubert  and  Schumann,  and  advanced  works  by 
contemporary  Englishmen.  My  reply,  when  somewhat 
taken  to  task  for  the  severity  of  my  selections,  was,  "  I 
prefer  breaking  new  ground  to  competition  with  every 
other  barytone  in  London  in  a  repertory  which  is  com 
mon  property."  I  believed  then  as  now,  that  the  artist 
with  courage  to  climb  high  upon  the  ladder  gets  into  a 
different  atmosphere,  and  finds  that  people  lift  up  their 
heads  and  look  after  him,  follow  him  as  far  as  they  can, 
admire  his  progress,  and  attempt  to  breathe  the  rarer 
atmosphere  in  which  he  lives. 


5  <* 

<  - 

§  i 

s 


WITH  MANY  TONGUES  125 

The  result  was  my  immediate  and  frequent  engage 
ments  thereafter  at  the  Monday  Popular  Concerts  at 
St.  James's  Hall  with  Lady  Halle  (Madame  Norman 
Neruda),  Joachim,  and  the  most  notable  musicians  of  the 
day. 

By  some  power  I  have  ever  been  led  in  the  way  of 
good;  by  the  same  power  I  believe  myself  to  have  been 
protected  from  evil.  During  the  spring  of  1893,  I  was 
approached  by  my  friend,  the  late  George  Wilson,  and 
asked  to  take  part  in  Theodore  Thomas's  concerts  at  the 
World's  Columbian  Exposition  in  Chicago  that  year. 
Though  the  contract  had  been  signed,  the  engagement 
was  canceled  by  reason  of  Thomas's  change  of  plans, 
and  I  remained  in  England  to  go  upon  the  operatic  tour 
I  have  mentioned.  Had  I  left  for  America,  I  was  to 
have  met  my  mother  and  her  brother  at  Lake  Mohonk, 
and  accompanied  them  to  my  uncle's  country-place  on  the 
coast  of  Maine  for  a  short  visit  before  I  went  to  Chicago ; 
this  was  well  understood,  and  the  date  fixed. 

Picking  up  a  London  paper  that  day  my  eyes  fell  upon 
a  head  line  telling  of  a  railway  disaster  near  Springfield, 
Massachusetts,  resulting  in  many  deaths.  Although  no 
names  were  mentioned,  I  felt  a  distinct  pang  at  my  heart 
and  knew  my  mother  had  been  one  of  the  victims.  On 
reaching  my  home  I  found  a  dispatch  from  my  uncle, 
telling  me  of  the  instant  death  of  my  mother.  I  was  in 
wardly  aware  that  I  had  escaped  a  similar  fate  by  reason 
of  the  change  of  plans  that  kept  me  in  England.  As 
soon  as  I  had  filled  the  engagements  already  made  in 
London  and  elsewhere,  I  set  sail  for  New  York  to  attend 
to  business  connected  with  my  mother's  estate. 

While  there  I  had  the  opportunity  of  singing  at  one 
of  Walter  Damrosch's  concerts  at  the  newly  erected  Car- 


126       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

negie  Hall,  when  I  assisted  in  the  fiftieth  anniversary 
of  the  first  production  of  Balfe's  "  The  Bohemian  Girl," 
by  singing  selections  from  that  tuneful  opera,  one  of  my 
numbers  being  "  The  Heart  Bowed  Down  by  Weight  of 
Woe,"  which  upon  a  previous  occasion  I  had  unthink 
ingly  rendered  at  a  concert  given  at  an  asylum  for  pa 
tients  suffering  with  melancholia  with  the  alleged  object 
of  cheering  the  inmates.  The  recollection  of  this  came 
over  me  as  I  sang  the  well-known  air  at  Carnegie  Hall, 
and  brought  on  a  fit  of  hilarity  which  I  had  the  utmost 
difficulty  in  restraining,  almost  causing  me  to  disgrace 
myself  by  laughing  aloud  before  the  audience. 

Many  years  afterward  I  undertook  to  give  the  musical 
version  by  Henry  Holden  Huss  of  Shakespeare's  Seven 
Ages  of  Man  at  the  Edwin  Forrest  Home  for  Aged 
Actors,  near  Philadelphia.  When  I  came  to  the  Sixth 
Age,  with  its  mention  of  "  the  lean  and  slippered  pan 
taloon  .  .  .  his  youthful  hose,  well  saved,  a  world  too 
wide  for  his  shrunk  shank;  and  his  big  manly  voice,  turn 
ing  again  toward  childish  treble,  pipes  and  whistles,"  it 
flashed  upon  me  that  I  was  performing  before  an  audience 
made  up  of  octogenarians,  whom  I  was  only  too  aptly 
describing  to  themselves.  I  was  so  embarrassed  that  I 
fairly  forgot  the  Seventh  Age, — "  last  scene  of  all," — 
and  would  have  stood  there  like  a  schoolboy  who  has  lost 
the  thread  of  his  declamation  had  not  my  good  and  trust 
worthy  presence  of  mind  come  to  my  help.  I  tottered 
to  the  footlights,  spoke  to  the  bewildered  accompanist, 
and  said  in  an  impromptu  line  which  certainly  is  not 
Shakespearean,  u  I  am  so  old  I  can't  recall  what  comes 
next."  To  my  surprise  I  was  complimented  on  my  "  ef 
fective  interpolation  "  by  several  of  the  eminent  Shake 
spearean  scholars  who  were  present  as  guests,  including 


WITH  MANY  TONGUES  127 

Doctor  Furness  and  Professors  Schelling  and  Jastrow. 
It  is  the  only  time  I  ever  attempted  any  addition  to  Shake 
speare,  and  I  certainly  never  intend  to  make  another. 

As  a  result  of  "  The  Bohemian  Girl,"  I  was  at  once 
engaged  with  Madame  Nordica  to  sing  in  "  The  Mes 
siah  "  with  the  Oratorio  Society  of  New  York,  the  first 
of  many  occasions  when  the  directors  of  this  distinguished 
association  did  me  the  honor  to  ask  me  to  appear  before 
it.  The  pair  of  concerts  at  that  time,  in  1893,  were  so 
successful  that  an  extra  performance  was  given  a  few 
days  later,  and  a  good  start  made  with  the  Oratorio  So 
ciety.  It  is  a  matter  of  record  in  the  annals  of  the  soci 
ety,  that  I  have  sung  with  it  more  frequently  than  any 
other  living  person. 

I  returned  to  London  in  time  to  fulfill  my  engagements 
with  the  Bach  Choir  as  Amfortas  in  the  first  act  of 
"  Parsifal  "  under  the  direction  of  Professor  Stanford, 
and  thought  then,  as  ever  since  when  hearing  "  Parsifal," 
whether  in  Bayreuth  or  in  New  York,  that  Wagner's 
whole  idea  of  effect  in  the  stage  setting  and  music  per 
vading  the  Grail  scene,  must  have  been  the  result  of  his 
having  heard  in  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  Palestrina's  greatest 
High  Mass,  than  which  nothing  in  musical  literature  is 
more  impressive. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  when  studying  in  Italy  to  re 
ceive  through  my  friend  Esme  Howard,  at  the  time  one 
of  the  secretaries  of  the  British  Embassy  at  Rome,  a 
ticket  which  admitted  me  to  St.  Peter's  on  January  i, 
1888,  when  Pope  Leo  XIII  was  allowed  by  the  Italian 
Government  to  celebrate  mass  for  the  first  time  in  the 
cathedral.  '  The  ceremony  was  conducted  before  a  con 
course  of  people  so  vast  that  it  filled  the  enormous 
spaces  of  St.  Peter's  to  their  utmost  capacity.  The 


128       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Pope  celebrated  mass  under  the  baldachino  beneath  the 
dome,  while  Palestrina's  music  was  sung  by  the  finest 
choristers  of  Rome,  who  for  the  occasion  had  been 
gathered  in  from  the  various  churches  to  augment  the 
choir  of  the  Sistine  Chapel.  The  day  was  cold  and 
foggy  and  enormous  icicles  were  hanging  from  every 
fountain  in  Rome.  I  was  chilled  to  the  bone,  even  in 
St.  Peter's,  into  which  the  fog  had  penetrated  —  the 
mistiness  there  being  augmented  by  the  fumes  from  the 
censers  swung  by  the  acolytes.  The  moment  for  the 
elevation  of  the  Host  had  come.  The  music  arose  in 
ecstatic  strains,  silver  trumpets  pealed  from  the  dome, 
and  from  the  utmost  heights  sounded  the  exquisite  voices 
of  a  boy  choir.  The  aged  Pontiff  raised  the  sacred  Chal 
ice,  and  at  that  moment  the  sun  burst  through  the  pall 
of  cloud,  sending  a  shaft  of  light  through  the  windows  of 
the  south  transept  upon  the  white  figure  of  Leo  XIII,  at 
the  great  moment,  musically  and  dramatically,  of  the 
one  supreme  religious  ceremony  of  our  time.  The  throng 
fell  upon  its  knees  in  adoration  and  in  awe;  it  was  as  if 
God  had  touched  with  His  finger  His  earthly  representa 
tive  and  blessed  him  with  the  light  of  His  countenance; 
indeed  it  was  so  accepted  by  the  devout  throughout  the 
Roman  Catholic  world. 

It  is  curious  to  note  how  in  my  life  events  have  crowded 
one  upon  another ;  even  though  they  matter  little  to  any 
one  but  myself,  to  me  they  are  remarkable  enough.  I 
find  that  one  of  my  early  engagements  was  in  Edinburgh 
with  the  Scottish  Orchestra,  which  had  come  into  being 
and  which  was  well  on  its  way  to  success  under  the  di 
recting  hand  of  Georg  Henschel;  he  who,  when  conductor 
of  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra,  had  advised  me 


WITH  MANY  TONGUES  129 

against  going  before  the  public  as  a  professional  singer. 
I  was  sufficiently  successful  at  this  concert,  however,  to 
have  the  honor  of  being  engaged  on  many  subsequent 
occasions  by  the  man  I  so  admired. 

Mrs.  Henschel  used  to  tell  with  glee  how,  at  their  place 
in  the  Highlands,  her  husband,  preparing  during  the  sum 
mer  for  his  forthcoming  series  of  symphony  concerts, 
would  take  his  scores  out  to  the  lawn,  where  under  a  tree 
he  spent  hours  in  conducting  an  imaginary  orchestra ;  even 
correcting  imaginary  mistakes,  by  tapping  with  his  baton 
upon  the  stand  and  pointing  to  some  phantom  instrument 
alist,  saying,  "  F  natural,  not  F  sharp,  Mr.  Blank.  Now 
we  will  go  on,  gentlemen,  if  you  please." 

Henschel's  influence  was  enormous  throughout  Great 
Britain.  As  a  conductor  he  was  in  the  first  rank;  as  a 
composer  he  stood  high;  he  was  admirable  indeed  as  an 
exponent  of  bass  parts  in  oratorio ;  but  where  to  my  mind 
he  shone  with  the  greatest  brilliancy  was  in  the  series  of 
concerts  with  his  charming  wife,  which  lasted  through 
many  years,  and  which  were  as  well  known  in  America 
as  in  England.  Henschel  was  a  master  at  the  piano, 
and  nothing  short  of  a  genius  in  the  interpretation  of 
classic  songs,  but  he  shared  with  his  contemporaries,  Max 
Heinrich  and  Doctor  Ludwig  Wiillner,  the  tonal  pecul 
iarities  which  seem  almost  invariably  and  inevitably  to  be 
impressed  upon  the  Teutonic  throat. 

In  this  connection  I  am  reminded  of  the  visit  which 
Madame  Wagner  made  to  Covent  Garden  in  the  early 
'nineties,  when  she  heard  us  in  "  Lohengrin."  By  "  us  " 
I  mean  Jean  and  Edouard  de  Reszke,  Madame  Schu- 
mann-Heink,  Madame  Nordica,  and  myself  —  two 
Poles,  one  German,  and  two  Americans,  all  of  whom  had 


130       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

learned  to  sing  in  the  best  Italian  manner.  We  were 
much  pleased  when  Madame  Wagner  said  of  us  on  the 
stage  after  the  performance,  that  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life  she  had  that  evening  heard  the  music  of  her  hus 
band  rendered  "  from  a  melodious  standpoint." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FESTIVAL   AND    UNIVERSITY 

Let  knowledge  grow  from  more  to  more, 

But  more  of  reverence  in  us  dwell ; 

That  mind  and  soul,  according  well, 
May  make  one  music  as  before. 

—  Tennyson. 

WITH  me  in  1894  all  was  going  well.  At  the  opening 
of  the  year  I  was  offered  many  engagements  of  increas 
ing  interest.  I  appeared  in  London  with  Joachim  and 
his  quartette,  with  the  Spanish  violinist  Sefior  Arbos,  and 
with  Leonard  Borwick,  one  of  England's  finest  pianists. 
I  traveled  far  and  wide  in  the  British  Isles  to  sing  in 
oratorio  and  concert  for  my  kind  and  increasingly  ap 
preciative  clientele.  I  may  thank  God  that  the  health 
bequeathed  me  by  my  ancestors,  the  training  received 
from  my  mother,  and  my  own  artistic  enthusiasm  kept  me 
then,  as  they  have  ever  kept  me,  fully  and  eagerly  oc 
cupied,  glad  of  my  opportunities  and  grateful  for  the 
approbation  and  trust  that  the  public  has  bestowed  upon 
me.  Engagements  followed  upon  engagements :  Bach's 
"  Passion  Music  "  at  Queen's  Hall,  with  Joachim  as  the 
solo  violinist  and  Dolmetsch  accompanying  on  the  old- 
time  harpsichord;  Gounod's  "Redemption"  at  Crystal 
Palace;  and  Mackenzie's  fine  oratorio  "Bethlehem"  at 
the  Royal  Albert  Hall. 

Among  women  much  in  the  public  eye  in  those  times 
was  Liza  Lehmann,  the  admirable  song  writer  and  con 
cert  soprano,  and  a  very  beautiful  contralto  with  an 


132       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

equally  beautiful  voice  —  the  lady  shall  be  nameless  — 
who  failed  after  a  few  important  engagements  because  of 
her  poor  musicianship.  Loveliness  may  attract,  a  voice 
may  charm,  exquisite  manners  may  captivate,  influence 
may  launch  an  individual;  but  musicianship  is  the  only 
thing  that  can  keep  a  singer  going  in  a  world  of  musicians. 

How  often  have  I  not  been  ashamed  of  vocalists  who, 
unable  to  render  their  parts  correctly  even  in  oratorio, 
where  they  may  carry  the  music  in  their  hands,  are  quietly 
laughed  at  by  the  clever  instrumentalists  behind  them  in 
the  orchestra,  who  play  for  union  wages,  while  the  sing 
ers  themselves  are  receiving  princely  fees  and  royal  hom 
age! 

Among  my  colleagues  at  this  time  was  an  American 
tenor,  now  gone,  whose  stage  name  was  Orlando  Harley. 
I  mention  him  to  show  what  determination  will  do  for 
an  artist  who  sets  out  to  win.  This  young  man  was  the 
son  of  a  banker  in  the  Middle  West,  and  had  been  edu 
cated  at  the  United  States  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis, 
from  which  he  was  suspended  for  some  slight  breach  of 
discipline.  Considering  himself  unjustly  used,  he  de 
clined  either  to  return  to  Annapolis  or  to  accept  a  position 
in  his  father's  bank,  declaring  that  he  intended  to  become 
a  singer  —  a  career  ,which  did  not  meet  with  the  ap 
probation  of  his  parents. 

He  left  home  one  night  provided  with  such  money  as 
he  could  get  together,  and  went  to  New  York,  where  he 
lived  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  for  a  few  days,  while  he 
sought  in  vain  for  engagements  at  the  Metropolitan 
Opera,  in  comic  opera,  upon  the  stage  in  Broadway  shows, 
in  church  choirs,  and  in  concerts.  Finding  his  funds  de 
creasing,  he  went  to  a  second-rate  hotel,  then  to  a  lodg 
ing  house,  and  finally  found  himself  with  credit  gone,  all 


FESTIVAL  AND  UNIVERSITY  133 

his  clothes  in  pawn  except  the  suit  upon  his  back,  and 
only  five  cents  in  his  pocket.  With  this  last  nickel  he 
bought  himself  a  bag  of  biscuits,  which  he  washed  down 
with  water  from  the  fountain  in  Madison  Square. 
Biscuits  gone,  he  had  nothing  to  eat  for  twenty-four 
hours  and  woke  on  a  bench  by  the  fountain  in  the  morn 
ing,  shivering,  his  sole  protection  against  the  cold  a  news 
paper  drawn  over  his  knees  after  it  had  blown  in  his  di 
rection.  Gazing  blankly  at  it,  his  eyes  fell  upon  an  ad 
vertisement  for  a  porter  wanted  in  a  business  house  down 
town;  and,  taking  this  as  a  good  omen,  he  proceeded  to 
the  address  indicated.  Keeping  his  hands  behind  him 
he  was  interviewed  by  a  kindly  employer,  who,  shrewdly 
judging  the  young  man  to  be  a  gentleman  in  trouble, 
invited  him  to  tell  his  story  and  his  name.  Refusing  to 
give  his  real  name  until  he  had  made  a  name  for  himself, 
the  young  tenor  told  his  tale  and  announced  his  inten 
tion  to  become  known  yet,  despite  his  recent  hard  luck. 
He  was  taken  into  the  office,  his  employer  being  also 
a  musical  enthusiast,  received  vocal  lessons  in  part  pay 
ment  for  his  services,  and  was  given  a  chance  to  show 
what  he  could  do,  with  the  result  that  before  long  he 
found  himself  making  his  way  pleasantly  in  Europe,  and 
on  the  threshold  of  a  distinguished  career,  which  was  un 
fortunately  cut  short  by  death. 

I  was  selected  to  be  among  the  principals  in  all  three 
of  the  Bach  Festival  concerts  of  1895,  a  privilege  that 
I  highly  appreciated,  for  it  showed  me  the  trust  reposed 
in  me  by  Stanford  and  his  associates  and  led  me  straight 
into  such  oratorio  work  throughout  the  United  Kingdom 
as  otherwise  would  not  have  come  to  me.  Opportunity 
is  important,  but  still  more  important  is  the  ability  to 
embrace  it. 


134       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

It  was  about  that  time  that  I  sang,  too,  under  the 
baton  of  Frederic  Cowen,  who  soon  after  became  con 
ductor  of  the  Philharmonic  Society.  Many  a  time  have  I 
had  the  honor  of  working  with  that  brilliant  conductor 
and  composer,  who  for  a  period  after  the  death  of  Halle 
conducted  his  orchestra  till  Richter  was  secured.  I  also 
sang  in  a  series  of  performances  in  the  Wagnerian  con 
certs  under  Felix  Mottl  at  Queen's  Hall,  London. 

This  series  was  also  conducted  —  with  his  left  hand  — 
by  Siegfried  Wagner  who,  had  it  not  been  for  the  in 
terest  of  his  mother  at  Bayreuth,  might  never  have  been 
permitted  to  direct  the  music  dramas  there.  Although 
he  knew  every  note  by  heart  and  led  without  the  score, 
and  though  the  orchestra  had  the  work  so  well  in  hand 
that  it  was  nearly  impossible  for  a  mistake  to  be  made, 
still  all  looked  with  distrust  upon  Siegfried's  efforts  as  a 
conductor.  He  had  composed  an  opera,  which  had  been 
performed;  but  all  his  best  friends  thought  he  should  have 
kept  to  his  original  profession  of  architecture.  It  was 
only  natural,  however,  that  he  should  be  of  assistance  at 
Bayreuth,  where  his  face  and  figure  as  he  grew  older 
were  so  strikingly  like  those  of  his  distinguished  father 
as  to  be  positively  uncanny  as  he  went  to  and  fro  busying 
himself  with  the  productions,  or  mingling  with  the  nota 
ble  society  that  thronged  the  little  town  for  so  many 
summers. 

By  this  time,  as  it  may  be  supposed,  I  was  gathering  to 
gether  quite  a  repertory.  I  had  been  engaged  to  sing 
at  Oxford  for  the  University  Musical  Club,  where  I  gave 
songs  by  Schubert,  Schumann,  Brahms  and  Wagner,  with 
old  Italian  and  modern  English  selections,  and  I  was  in 
vited  to  appear  later  at  one  of  the  first  of  a  long  series  of 


FESTIVAL  AND  UNIVERSITY  135 

Sunday  night  concerts,  given  in  the  great  hall  of  Baliol 
College. 

Thus  I  was  enabled  as  I  went  along  to  live  up  to  my 
mother's  injunction  to  do  the  best  that  was  in  me  in  up 
holding  the  dignity  of  my  art;  but  I  never  forgot  that 
as  "  one  star  differeth  from  another  star  in  glory  "  so 
does  one  audience  differ  from  another  in  intelligent  ap 
preciation  of  music.  It  was  possible  to  give  on  Sunday 
night  at  Oxford  University  what  would  have  been  quite 
out  of  place  on  Saturday  afternoon  at  a  Ballad  Concert  in 
St.  James's  Hall,  where  the  audience  would  neither  have 
expected  nor  enjoyed  the  music  fitting  for  the  classic  pre 
cincts  of  one  of  the  world's  most  distinguished  seats  of 
learning. 

I  had  already  begun  giving  concerts  of  my  own  in 
Londonv  When  engaged  by  others  one  defers  to  the 
opinion  of  one's  employers; — "  He  who  pays  the  piper 
calls  the  tune,"  and  one  must  play  in  accordance  with  the 
wishes  of  one's  patrons.  It  is  different  when  one 
branches  out  for  oneself  in  any  art.  Therefore,  as  I  had 
long  been  partial  to  Schumann's  music,  I  determined  to 
give  a  concert  devoted  entirely  to  his  works.  I  was  as 
sisted  by  Fanny  Davies,  pianist;  the  Americans,  Mrs. 
Henschel,  soprano,  and  Marguerite  Hall,  alto;  with  my 
master  William  Shakespeare  as  the  tenor.  Thus  began 
on  June  8,  a  series  of  recitals  which  have  lasted  until  the 
present  day,  twenty-five  years.  During  this  time  I  have 
given  about  800  concerts  and  recitals  of  my  own. 

The  most  important  work  of  that  season  was  that 
which  occupied  me  at  the  Royal  Opera,  when  it  fell  to  my 
lot  to  sing  Vulcan  in  Gounod's  "  Philemon  and  Baucis," 
besides  other  things  which  I  had  done  before;  and  I 


136       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

played  both  at  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden,  as  Ot- 
tokar  in  "  Der  Freischiitz,"  Pizarro  in  "  Fidelro,"  and 
Wolfram  in  "  Tannhauser  " —  all  for  the  first  time. 
These  made  a  total  of  fifteen  appearances,  which  in  ad 
dition  to  the  concert  work  of  which  I  have  spoken,  and 
the  preparation  for  "  Falstaff,"  soon  to  be  performed  on 
tour,  gave  me  indeed  busy  days  and  nights. 

Looking  back  upon  this  and  many  similar  years,  I  won 
der  how  I  ever  got  through  them.  Even  so  have  I  won 
dered,  when  climbing  in  the  Alps  and  looking  back  from 
the  distance  of  miles  at  the  scene  of  some  perilous  descent, 
how  I  could  ever  have  negotiated  those  precipices  and 
come  out  alive ! 

Among  the  artists  who  performed  the  Wagnerian  op 
eras,  besides  Max  Alvary  and  others  of  whom  I  have 
already  spoken,  was  the  brilliant  soprano  Katharina 
Klafsky,  then  in  the  prime  of  her  art  both  as  a  singer 
and  as  an  actress.  Histrionically  she  was  the  equal  of 
Alvary,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for  he  had  as  fine  a 
dramatic  talent  as  I  have  ever  met  in  a  vocalist. 

It  was  only  a  few  years  later  that  the  voice  of  Madame 
Klafsky  was  hushed  in  death.  So  greatly  beloved  was  she 
in  Hamburg,  where  she  had  sung  for  many  years,  that 
her  dead  body  was  borne  through  the  streets  on  an  open 
bier,  Elizabeth-like,  and  followed  by  thousands  whose 
streaming  eyes  bade  a  last  farewell  as  they  gazed  upon 
the  waxen  features  of  the  beautiful  face  they  had  loved 
and  admired  so  often  on  the  stage  as  it  passed  for  ever 
from  their  sight. 

Max  Alvary,  too,  has  gone,  after  a  meteoric  career 
cut  all  too  short.  He  was  the  son  of  the  painter  Andreas 
Achenbach,  and  his  father  and  sisters,  who  had  social 


FESTIVAL  AND  UNIVERSITY  137 

aspirations,  felt  the  singer  had  disgraced  the  family  name 
by  singing  in  opera,  heedless  of  the  fact  that  he  had  made 
a  great  name  for  himself,  while  his  manly  beauty  gave 
his  audiences  many  a  picture  better  worth  the  seeing  than 
any  painting  of  them  all. 

In  1894  we  were  still  giving  "  I  Maestri  Canton  "  in 
Italian  at  Covent  Garden.  That  year,  the  beautiful 
Madame  Emma  Eames,  one  of  the  prides  of  American 
vocal  art,  made  her  debut  as  Eva  to  the  Walther  of  Jean 
de  Reszke.  Plan^on  was  Pogner  and  Ancona  was  Hans 
Sachs,  a  part  as  difficult  for  him  to  study  as  it  was  for  me 
to  have  committed  the  part  of  Beckmesser  to  memory. 

As  I  drove  from  my  house  in  Kensington  Gore  to  Cov 
ent  Garden  in  a  hansom  cab  I  frequently  had  the  score  in 
my  lap  studying  it  along  the  crowded  thoroughfares.  On 
one  occasion  I  remember  looking  up  and  catching  the 
eye  of  Villiers  Stanford,  who  greeted  me  from  the  side 
walk  as  I  passed.  Meeting  him  that  evening  at  a  private 
party,  he  hailed  me  with  a  laugh,  saying:  "  As  you 
drove  along  there  to-day  you  looked  exactly  like  Beck 
messer  sitting  in  his  box."  I  said:  "  How  remarkable! 
I  was  studying  the  part  of  Beckmesser  at  the  time." 

So  it  is;  I  seem  to  realize  the  part  I  am  learning  to  the 
extent  of  becoming  almost  the  living  embodiment  of  what 
ever  fictitious  or  historical  character  I  am  called  upon  to 
represent.  I  have  been  so  carried  away  by  the  spirit  of 
my  own  impersonations  that  I  have  lost  myself  com 
pletely  and  for  hours  together  have  not  had  a  thought 
of  my  own,  the  actualities  of  the  evening  being  the  dream, 
the  artistic  dream  the  actuality.  This  completeness  of 
identification  is  not  arrived  at  with  ease  or  without  long 
study,  or  even  then  by  any  effort  of  will.  It  begins  with 


138       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

my  preliminary  view  of  the  part  I  am  to  assume  and  pro 
ceeds  step  by  step  with  my  understanding  of  it  from  every 
bearing  upon  which  I  can  adjust  my  vision. 

To  me  "  All  the  world's  a  stage,  and  all  the  men  and 
women  merely  players."  I  carry  this  from  the  human 
beings  who  are  on  the  scene  with  me,  every  one  as  real 
in  his  assumption  of  a  character  as  mine  is  to  me,  to  the 
very  stage  interior  in  which  the  scene  is  enacted,  which 
becomes  as  much  a  reality  as  any  hall  in  any  building 
made  of  perdurable  stone.  It  is  a  matter  of  amazement 
to  me  that  the  principal  characters  of  drama,  and  of  fic 
tion,  are  far  more  real  than  almost  any  out  of  the  millions 
on  millions  of  human  beings  who  have  lived  and  gone, 
leaving  no  memory  behind.  This  feeling  is  more  general 
than  may  be  at  first  believed,  but  many  a  part  acted 
by  us  players  upon  the  stage  is  more  vividly  remembered 
by  our  auditors  than  the  actual  persons  they  meet  in 
private  life. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    FAT   KNIGHT 

Falstaff  sweats  to  death, 
And  lards  the  lean  earth  as  he  walks  along. 

—  Shakespeare. 

IN  a  month  the  company  from  Covent  Garden  went  on 
tour.  Consulting  my  records  I  find  that  I  was  put  down 
for  Wolfram  in  Italian,  in  which  language  I  had  first 
studied  the  opera,  though  for  the  performances  with 
Alvary  I  had  to  work  it  over  again  in  the  original  Ger 
man;  for  Nevers  in  "  Les  Huguenots,"  for  the  Toreador 
in  "  Carmen  ";  for  Vulcan  in  "  Philemon  and  Baucis  "  in 
French;  for  Tonio  in  "I  Pagliacci,"  and  for  Alfio  in 
"  Cavalleria  Rusticana."  I  was  also  expected  to  do  both 
Mephistopheles  and  Valentine  in  "  Faust  "  and  had  to 
be  ready  to  sing  both  Hans  Sachs  and  Beckmesser  in 
Italian  in  "  Die  Meistersinger."  That  was  my  reper 
tory,  and  I  prepared  myself  to  perform  any  or  all  of  these 
characters  as  called  upon. 

The  company  being  large,  however,  and  the  susceptible 
feelings  of  its  foreign  members  having  to  be  taken  into 
consideration,  I  was  asked  to  relinquish  the  part  of  Sachs, 
and  Falstaff  was  given  me  instead.  Much  as  I  have 
longed  to  perform  Hans  Sachs,  I  have  never  been  per 
mitted  to  do  so  in  opera;  and  upon  this  tour,  even  the 
part  of  Beckmesser  was  given  to  Pini  Corsi,  than  whom 
there  never  was  a  finer  buffo  singer.  As  Ford  in  "  Fal 
staff  "  he  and  I,  with  Julia  Ravogli  as  Dame  Quickly,  had 

139 


140       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

great  fun,  and  eagerly  looked  forward  to  our  perform 
ances. 

Our  tour  opened  at  Blackpool  in  Lancashire,  with  which 
county  my  family  name  had  been  associated  for  so  many 
centuries,  and  the  week  we  played  at  the  Opera  House 
Beerbohm  Tree  was  also  acting  in  Blackpool.  I  had  been 
a  great  admirer  of  his  amazing  performance  of  Falstaff 
on  the  stage  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  London,  of 
which  he  was  for  years  the  manager,  and  had  previously 
consulted  him  as  to  my  costume  and  make-up.  The  in 
terest  he  took  in  my  performance  was  such  that  he  came 
to  my  dressing  room  and  gave  me  valuable  hints,  even 
painting  my  face  with  his  own  master  hand,  laying  on 
the  high  lights  and  counseling  me  from  the  wealth  of 
his  own  experience  in  this  character  how  to  make  the 
audience  feel  that  I  was  the  great,  gray,  gross,  greasy 
glutton  I  should  appear  to  be.  Tree  went  off  to  his 
own  theatre  while  I  in  nervous  agony  proceeded  with  my 
own  difficult  part. 

In  this  character,  not  more  than  a  few  square  inches 
of  my  actual  self  were  visible  to  the  audience;  all  they 
saw  was  what  surrounded  the  poor  little  entity  of  me 
inside.  On  my  legs  were  enormous  pads  made  of  sheep's 
wool,  sewed  inside  of  stockinette  and  so  shaped  as  to 
resemble,  when  drawn  on,  what,  of  course,  they  should 
resemble,  the  legs  of  a  fat  man.  In  the  first  act  I  wore 
great  boots  that  came  above  my  knees;  these,  too,  looked 
fat.  About  my  body  I  had  a  sort  of  mattress  into  the 
padded  arms  of  which  I  thrust  my  own  arms  while  my 
dresser  tied  the  whole  contrivance  up  the  back  with  many 
strings.  Over  this  was  a  great  leather  jerkin,  and  over 
that  again  a  cape.  But  all  this  was  easy  to  put  on  and 
take  off;  the  difficult  and  time-consuming  element  in  the 


THE  FAT  KNIGHT  141 


assumption  of  the  fat  knight's  character  was  the  make-up 
of  the  face  and  head. 

The  beard  had  been  especially  constructed  so  that  what 
seemed  to  be  a  pink  skin,  a  triple  chin,  and  a  pair  of  fat 
jowls  showed  through  a  rather  thin  blond  beard  begin 
ning  to  gray.  This  was  held  in  place  by  a  stout  elastic 
band  over  my  head,  but,  for  safety's  sake,  it  was  also 
gummed  to  my  skin.  Below  the  chin  a  long  flap  of  skin- 
like  material  hung  down  upon  my  breast  and  was  tied 
under  my  arms  behind.  From  the  right  side  and  from 
the  left  a  fat  neck  seemed  to  descend  into  my  clothing, 
and  when  the  wig  was  put  on  a  flap  at  the  back  resembling 
the  many  folds  of  a  fat  man's  neck  ran  under  my  costume 
down  my  back  and  was  tied  around  in  front  of  me  by 
tapes.  The  nose,  pimpled,  purple,  and  groggy,  I  fash 
ioned  out  of  a  sort  of  putty  which  comes  for  the  purpose 
and  is  supposed  to  stick  to  the  flesh. 

When  at  last  I  was  fully  made  up  and  costumed,  and 
was  getting  along  well  into  the  middle  of  the  opera,  I 
found  myself  in  such  a  bath  of  perspiration,  descending 
like  the  precious  ointment  even  unto  Aaron's  beard,  that 
my  heavy  clothing  was  soaking  wet,  and  my  head  and  face 
were  reeking  with  sweat  that  ran  down  inside  of  my  whis 
kers.  Unfortunately  it  also  ran  down  my  forehead  and 
under  the  false  nose,  which  was  seen  by  the  audience  to 
loosen  and  elongate.  At  last,  amid  the  shrieks  of  the 
spectators,  the  nose  quietly  slid  from  my  face,  down  my 
"  fair  round  belly,"  and  dropped  upon  the  stage  under  my 
feet.  I  could  not  see  it  over  my  huge  front  and,  with  my 
next  step,  accidentally  trod  upon  the  slippery  mass  and  was 
thrown  flat  upon  the  floor.  The  audience,  already  in  a 
state  of  merriment  over  the  comedy,  went  almost  hys 
terical  with  laughter,  but  I  had  to  go  bravely  on  with  my 


142       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

part  after  being  picked  up,  and  glad  enough  was  I  that 
my  disguise  was  thick  enough  to  conceal  my  mortification. 

Tree  had  invited  me  to  supper  with  him  after  the  per 
formance,  and  I  recounted  my  uncomfortable  experience 
to  him  and  Haddon  Chambers,  whose  play  he  was  acting. 
We  all  had  another  good  laugh  when  Tree  told  us  of 
his  own  experience  the  first  time  he  played  Falstaff,  when 
the  string  which  tied  his  trunks  on  broke  and  the  trou 
sers  slipped  down  around  his  heels  until  he  could  not  move 
his  feet  at  all,  but  had  to  hop  off  the  stage  to  have  his 
costume  readjusted,  while  his  audience  enjoyed  his  mishap 
as  heartily  as  mine  had  reveled  in  my  misfortune. 

Such  things  as  these  help  to  carry  us  merrily  through 
the  arduous  duties  of  our  profession,  where  every  night 
we  live  a  life  within  a  life.  True  indeed  it  is  as  Shake 
speare  says,  u  One  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts"; 
yet  not  all  the  plays  ever  devised  can  match  the  experi 
ences  of  actual  life. 

I  played  Falstaff  more  than  twenty  times  that  season 
and  lost  as  many  pounds  in  weight  by  the  experience,  los 
ing  also  my  temper  nightly  while  getting  into  that  miser 
able,  uncomfortable  costume ;  but  my  dresser  knew  how  to 
take  me,  and  a  good  tip  would  salve  his  wounded  feelings 
as  quickly  as  cocoa  butter  would  obliterate  my  own  dis 
guise  and  bring  me  to  myself  once  more. 

Almost  as  many  stories  are  told  of  Beerbohm  Tree 
as  used  to  be  circulated  about  Sir  Henry  Irving.  Both 
these  extraordinary  actors  are  said  to  have  taken  all  such 
tales  as  tributes  to  their  popularity  and  with  the  best  of 
grace,  even  to  the  enjoyment  of  seeing  their  peculiarities 
imitated  by  others.  But  Tree  never  quite  relished  the 
caustic  wit  of  W.  S.  Gilbert,  whom  I  heard  make  his  fa 
mous  commentary  on  Tree's  performance  of  Hamlet.  A 


DAVID  BISPHAM 

as  The  Vicar,  in  Lehmann's  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield." 
From  a  Photograph  by  Bacon  &  Sons,  Newcastle-on-Tyne, 


DAVID  BISPHAM 

as  Falstaff,  in  Verdi's  "  Falstaff." 
From  a  Photograph  by  Crookes,  Edinborough 


THE  FAT  KNIGHT  143 

number  of  the  actor-manager's  friends  came  on  the  stage 
at  the  Haymarket  Theatre  after  his  first  appearance  in 
that  difficult  role  and  Tree  asked  Gilbert  frankly  how  he 
liked  his  impersonation  of  the  melancholy  Dane.  Gil 
bert  with  a  look  of  ingenuous  innocence  replied:  "  My 
dear  fellow,  I  never  saw  anything  so  funny  in  my  life, 
and  yet  it  was  not  in  the  least  vulgar." 

In  further  conversation  Gilbert  contributed  his  bit 
to  the  solution  of  the  Shakespearean  enigma  by  saying: 
"  Hamlet,  you  know,  was  a  man  idiotically  sane,  with 
lucid  intervals  of  lunacy." 

During  this  tour  I  was  interested  in  making  a  trans 
lation  of  "  Falstaff  "  which  should  if  possible  better  that 
of  Beatty  Kingston,  parts  of  which  he  had  acknowledged 
to  me  not  to  be  to  his  satisfaction.  Knowing  my  Shake 
speare  well  I  made  memoranda  throughout  the  vocal  score 
for  lines  which,  in  the  event  of  my  ever  performing  it  in 
English,  could  be  used  by  myself  at  least,  adapting  from 
ether  plays  of  Shakespeare  such  actual  phrases  as  fitted 
Verdi's  notes.  It  has  unfortunately  never  fallen  to  my 
lot  to  sing  the  opera  in  English,  but  the  version  follows 
which  I  have  used  on  countless  occasions  in  my  concerts 
when  rendering  the  delightful  song  in  which  the  fat 
Knight  endeavors  to  commend  his  vast  bulk  to  his  lady 
love  by  telling  her  how  thin  and  slender  he  used  to  be 
when  he  was  young;  thus  ? — 

When  I  was  page  in  the  old  Duke's  house, 
Comely  of  figure  and  quick  as  a  mouse, 

I  was  a  vision  supple  and  tender, 

Nimble  and  slender  —  so  slender! 
That  was  a  gay  and  a  merry  time,  forsooth; 
The  May-day  and  heyday  of  my  happy  youth; 

I  was  able  to  ogle,  to  «coax,  and  to  wheedle, 


144       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Slim  enough  to  slip  through  the  eye  of  a  needle, 
When  I  was  page  so  comely  and  tender, 
Nimble  and  slender! 
I  was  a  vision  supple  and  tender, 
Nimble  and  slender  —  so  slender! 

When  I  was  page  to  the  old  Duke's  Grace, 
Matrons  and  maids  of  illustrious  race 

Rewarded  my  service  and  homage  with  many 

And  many  a  loving  embrace. 
Then  was  I  courted,  favored  by  the  fair, 
Heart-whole  and  happy,  knowing  not  a  care ; 

Merely  to  live  was  ineffable  pleasure, 

Endless  enjoyment  and  bliss  without  measure. 
When  I  was  page  so  comely  and  tender,  etc. 

Our  tour  took  us  to  the  principal  cities  of  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland.  It  was  while  in  the  capital  where 
"  old  Scotia's  grandeur  springs  "  that  an  Italian  soprano 
and  I  visited  the  ancient  cathedral  of  St.  Giles.  Under 
a  bleak  and  lowering  sky  in  a  Scotch  mist  we  came  upon 
the  gray  and  forbidding-looking  edifice,  and  the  child 
of  the  sunny  south  asked  me,  with  a  real  desire  to  be  in 
formed  on  so  grave  a  subject,  "  Do  they  have  the  same 
God  here  that  we  do  in  Italy?  " 

Our  journey  over,  I  resumed  my  concerts,  singing  that 
autumn  selection  from  "  The  Mastersingers  "  and  "  The 
Valkyrie  "  with  the  best  of  all  Wagnerian  interpreters, 
Hans  Richter,  with  whom  it  was  my  privilege  to  work 
many  a  time  afterward,  deriving  the  greatest  benefit  from 
association  with  him.  Taking  it  all  in  all,  and  looking 
back  upon  a  long  line  of  orchestral  conductors,  I  con 
sider  him  to  be  the  chiefest  of  them  all.  It  is  much  to  be 
regretted  that  he  never  came  to  America,  for  Richter 
said  he  would  come  if  Joachim  came;  and  Joachim  said 
he  would  attempt  the  journey  if  Richter  did,  but  as  a  mat- 


THE  FAT  KNIGHT  145 

ter  of  fact  neither  of  them  wanted  to  cross  the  ocean, 
even  to  visit  the  New  World. 

Deeply  impressed  as  are  all  these  experiences  upon 
my  memory,  nothing  can  ever  obliterate  from  it  Tristan's 
death  scene,  when  for  the  first  time  I  played  Kurwenal 
with  Max  Alvary.  I  seemed  not  only  to  be  living  the 
character,  but  to  be  dying  it  no  less.  After  my  fashion 
of  merging  myself  in  my  part  I  seemed  then,  as  always 
since,  actually  to  be  the  old  servitor  dying  by  the  side  of 
his  friend  for  whom  he  had  fought,  like  some  faithful 
dog  kissing  the  hand  of  his  master  as  the  last  act  of  a 
devoted  life. 

During  the  season  of  1894  I  sang  for  the  first  time  in 
Berlioz's  "  Damnation  of  Faust  "  as  Mephistopheles,  a 
part  in  which  on  many  subsequent  occasions  I  reveled,  and 
was  also  concerned  with  Arnold  Dolmetsch,  the  expert 
in  old  instruments,  in  the  revival  of  the  comedy  by  Bach 
called  "  The  Peasant's  (Bauern)  Cantata,"  which  was 
given  at  Staple  Inn  in  the  very  room  where  it  had  been 
performed  nearly  a  century  and  a  half  before  and  with  in 
struments  of  the  kind  actually  then  in  use. 

Saint-Saens'  beautiful  opera,  "  Samson  and  Delilah/' 
was  another  work  new  to  me  which  I  performed  with 
Santley  soon  after.  It  is  a  great  favorite  upon  the 
English  concert  platform,  offering  fine  opportunities  for 
both  principals  and  chorus,  yet  it  may  not  be  heard  as 
an  opera  by  reason  of  the  existence  of  a  law  forbidding 
the  stage  presentation  of  any  scriptural  episodes.  Still 
within  my  recollection  Massenet's  "  Herodiade  "  has  been 
performed  at  Covent  Garden,  but  under  another  title 
and  with  the  familiar  biblical  names  duly  changed.  So 
goes  on  the  merry  game  of  "  beating  the  devil  about  the 
hush." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ARTS    AND   LETTERS 

The  very  knowledge  of  many  arts,  however  we  may  follow  another, 
helps  to  equip  us  for  our  own. —  Tacitus. 

I  LIVED  for  ten  years  at  No.  19,  Kensington  Gore,  close 
by  the  Royal  Albert  Hall  and  opposite  Kensington  Palace 
Gardens.  In  that  little  house  I  entertained  many  a 
celebrity  of  the  day,  with  many  evidences  of  the  friend 
ship  of  persons  in  the  musical,  artistic,  and  literary  worlds. 
The  great  painters,  Watts,  Millais,  Leighton,  Poynter, 
Alma-Tadema,  Dicksee,  Burne-Jones,  were  my  friends, 
with  the  Americans,  Whistler  and  John  S.  Sargent. 

Sargent  was  not  only  fond  of  music,  but  played  the 
piano  remarkably  well,  and  I  often  sang  to  his  admirable 
accompaniments.  One  Sunday  he  and  I  were  bicycling 
to  a  luncheon  party  at  the  house  of  Madame  Liza  Leh- 
mann,  a  few  miles  out  of  town,  when  it  came  on  to  rain, 
leaving  the  roads  so  slippery  that  our  wheels  skidded  and 
threw  both  the  painter  and  me  into  the  mud  and  water 
at  the  roadside.  We  picked  ourselves  out  in  a  dread 
ful  mess,  arriving  at  our  destination  in  such  a  state  of 
unsightliness  that  we  had  to  be  supplied  with  fresh  cloth 
ing.  Madame  Lehmann's  husband,  Herbert  Bedford, 
was  of  middle  height  and  slender,  Sargent  was  tall  and 
stout,  I  was  short  and  thick;  and  the  effects  of  the  bor 
rowed  clothing  were  ridiculous.  Sargent  put  his  host's 
trousers  on  wrong  side  before  and  concealed  the  open 
deficiency  with  a  frock  coat,  while  I  had  to  turn  up  both 

146 


ARTS  AND  LETTERS  147 

coat  sleeves  and  trousers.  We  arrived  in  the  dining- 
room  an  hour  late,  such  scarecrows  in  appearance  that 
the  uproarious  merriment  greeting  us  fairly  stopped  the 
show. 

I  was  visiting  cousins  of  Mendelssohn,  the  Alfred 
Beneckes,  who  lived  at  Dorking,  neighbors  to  George 
Meredith,  poet  and  novelist,  in  whose  honor  a  dinner 
party  was  given.  Grant  Allen,  also  a  neighbor,  was 
among  the  guests,  and  proved  to  be  the  first  man  I  had 
ever  known  who  used  the  typewriter  in  composing  his  nu 
merous  books,  including  his  biography  of  Herbert  Spencer. 
This  noted  philosopher,  like  Allen  himself,  was  keenly 
sensitive  to  the  beauty  of  the  speaking  voice,  yet  neither 
could  tell  one  note  of  music  from  another  or  had  any  ap 
preciation  of  the  art.  This  I  learned  while  we  were  wait 
ing  for  our  guest  of  honor,  wondering  why  he  should  be 
so  late. 

After  what  seemed  an  interminable  time  George  Mer 
edith  came  in,  or  rather  stumbled  in,  after  walking  across 
the  half  mile  of  meadowland  between  the  two  houses. 
He  apologized  for  his  tardiness,  speaking  very  fast  and 
very  loud,  and  holding  himself  steady  by  means  of  a  chair, 
a  table,  the  mantelpiece,  or  whatever  he  chanced  to  be 
near.  With  all  his  reputation  for  abstemiousness  I 
feared  the  eminent  author  was  under  the  influence  of 
liquor,  especially  when  he  failed  to  regain  either  poise 
or  manner  until  we  were  seated  at  the  dinner  table.  The 
poor  man  had,  it  proved,  suffered  a  slight  stroke  of  pa 
ralysis  not  long  before,  which  he  was  doing  his  best  to 
conceal  from  his  friends,  though  knowing  that  it  would 
increase  upon  him  and  might  end  his  life  at  any  moment. 

I  saw  Meredith  many  times  after  that  and  was  often 
with  him  in  the  little  workroom  he  had  built  on  Box  Hill 


i48       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

near  his  house.  After  he  became  too  ill  to  go  even  so 
far  from  home,  I  used  to  sit  in  his  little  cottage  and  listen 
to  his  most  interesting  talk.  He  was  keenly  sympathetic 
and  drew  me  out  about  my  aspirations  in  my  work  and 
the  manner  in  which  I  came  to  be  a  singer.  He  expressed 
his  open  regret  to  me  about  his  own  failure  to  make  his 
delicate  and  delightful  work  more  widely  known,  for  it 
was  only  toward  the  end  of  his  life  that  he  began  to 
reap  the  rewards  of  fame  in  the  increased  circulation  of 
his  novels  and  poems.  Then  it  was  that  the  people  be 
gan  to  make  pilgrimages  from  far  and  near,  from  Europe 
and  America,  to  the  simple  abode  of  this  great  literary 
artist,  and  yet  he  said  to  me : 

"  How  fortunate  you  are,  my  dear  fellow,  to  find 
yourself  appreciated  while  you  are  still  in  the  prime  of 
manhood,  and  can  enjoy  it.  Here  I  am  hanging  on  to 
my  chair,  and  only  in  my  declining  years  am  I  known  to 
exist  by  the  world  at  large." 

Not  long  after  this  brave  old  soul  joined  the  com 
pany  of  his  fellow  immortals.  Fortunate  indeed  are  we 
as  heirs  of  the  fruits  of  such  genius ! 

It  was  Meredith  who  told  me  of  the  first  marriage 
of  the  painter,  Frederick  G.  Watts,  and  its  unhappy  ter 
mination.  We  had  been  speaking  of  a  recent  visit  to  his 
friend's  studio,  and  he  began,  "  That  reminds  me  "  and 
went  on  with  the  curious  story.  Years  before,  when 
Watts  was  painting  the  portrait  of  the  exquisite  girl  who 
was  to  become  so  widely  known  to  fame  as  Ellen  Terry, 
he  was  disappointed  in  one  of  the  sittings.  Her  elder 
sister,  who  had  been  her  constant  companion,  came  to 
him  alone  to  say  that  Ellen  would  not  return.  Express 
ing  his  surprise  and  his  fear  lest  he  had  given  offense, 
he  was  told  that  the  girl  had  fallen  in  love  with  him, 


ARTS  AND  LETTERS  149 

though  knowing  he  was  old  enough  to  be  her  father,  and 
would  not  see  him  again,  understanding  the  hopelessness 
of  her  passion. 

The  famous  painter,  possibly  flattered  at  having  en 
gaged  the  regard  of  a  woman  so  young  and  so  charming, 
considered  it  his  duty,  perhaps,  as  well  as  his  privilege, 
to  offer  her  his  hand  and  heart.  This  he  did  in  all  chiv 
alry  through  the  sister.  Departing  with  the  tender  mes 
sage,  she  returned  presently  with  the  radiant  Ellen,  who 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  him  who  soon  became  her 
husband.  Meredith  went  on  to  tell  me  of  a  dinner  party 
given  in  the  studio  after  the  wedding,  the  guests  being  the 
most  eminent  men  of  the  day  in  art  and  letters.  The  fair 
young  hostess  was  not  expected  to  be  present  after  she  had 
greeted  her  husband's  friends  in  the  drawing-room.  But 
she  went  quietly  to  her  own  apartment,  arrayed  herself 
in  the  costume  of  Ariel  she  had  provided,  let  herself 
through  the  skylight  into  the  studio  with  a  rope  ladder, 
and  landed  without  warning  in  the  center  of  the  dinner 
table,  where  she  posed  and  danced  before  the  astonished 
assemblage. 

"  Imagine,"  said  Meredith,  "  the  surprise  of  the  guests, 
and  imagine  the  chagrin  of  poor  Watts,  who  chid  his 
young  wife  and  bade  her  leave  the  room,  mortified  and 
cut  to  the  heart.  She  not  only  left  the  room,  but  she 
left  her  husband's  house  that  night  and  never  went  back 
to  him.  And  both  of  them,  after  the  divorce,  married 
again  and  married  happily." 

At  the  country  house  of  Lady  Palmer,  where  I  was  a 
frequent  guest,  I  met  the  ill-omened  genius,  Oscar  Wilde, 
still  at  the  height  of  his  fame  and  a  prime  favorite  in 
London  society.  Few  men  have  been  more  brilliant  in 
conversation,  as  he  knew  very  well,  for  he  knew  his  own 


150       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

value  in  the  world  of  letters  and  of  the  theatre.  He  had 
given  up  his  earlier  eccentricities  after  his  marriage,  set 
tled  himself  in  Tite  Street,  Chelsea,  and  was  devoting 
himself  to  the  poems  and  plays  upon  which  his  better 
reputation  will  rest.  I  have  always  thought  it  a  symptom 
of  his  oncoming  madness  that  he  should  have  made  such 
a  confession  as  that  contained  in  his  brilliant  novel,  u  The 
Portrait  of  Dorian  Gray  "  ;  apropos  of  which  his  unsus 
pecting  wife  once  complained  to  a  friend  of  mine,  "  Since 
Oscar  wrote  '  Dorian  Gray '  no  one  will  speak  to  us." 
With  his  downfall  came  the  instant  withdrawal  of  his 
sparkling  comedies  from  the  stage  of  the  St.  James's  The 
atre,  and  for  years  the  disgrace  he  had  inflicted  upon 
English  society  was  so  deeply  felt  that  his  name  was  never 
mentioned. 

George  Alexander  was  wise  to  have  produced  such 
plays,  as  he  was  wise  in  giving  his  stage  to  the  delight 
ful  work  of  Arthur  Pinero,  and  few  were  the  failures 
laid  up  against  him  and  his  management,  his  shrewd  and 
charming  little  wife  proving  herself  the  most  competent 
of  advisers.  But  they  made  one  serious  mistake,  which 
could  hardly  have  been  guarded  against,  in  bringing  out 
the  dramatization  of  Henry  James's  novel,  "  The  Amer 
ican,"  the  premier  of  which  I  attended.  I  had  admired 
the  book  from  the  time  of  its  publication  and  went  to  the 
theatre  with  eager  anticipation  thinking  the  story  would 
attract  London  society.  I  thought  the  play  admirably  con 
structed  and  of  marked  literary  interest.  It  was  admira 
bly  acted,  too,  with  the  exception  of  the  protagonist,  as 
sumed  by  Alexander  himself,  who  was  quite  un-American. 

I  had  known  Henry  James  for  years  in  London,  where 
his  works  were  greatly  admired  by  persons  of  discern 
ment,  though  little  more  calculated  than  Meredith's  to 


ARTS  AND  LETTERS  151 

gain  the  plaudits  of  the  populace,  and  he  was  not  known 
at  all  as  a  writer  of  plays.  The  first  night  the  house  was 
divided  against  itself,  the  connoisseurs  in  the  stalls  en 
joying  it  as  frankly  as  the  pit  and  gallery  disliked  it. 
At  the  fall  of  the  curtain  rapturous  applause  burst  out 
from  one,  and  an  unmerciful  hissing  and  booing  from 
the  other.  Mr.  Alexander  thought  to  quiet  the  disturb 
ance  by  bringing  on  the  author,  for  whom  the  stalls  were 
shouting,  but  the  rest  of  the  house  showed  its  disapproval 
so  vehemently  that  Mr.  James  retired  in  confusion,  to  be 
called  on  again  by  the  better  element  and  booed  off  once 
more  by  the  other  persons  in  the  house.  The  play  was 
withdrawn  forthwith,  and  the  great  novelist  sought  no 
more  for  dramatic  laurels. 

George  Moore  frequented  my  house  for  the  sake  of  the 
musical  company  to  be  found  there,  and  the  novel  he 
produced,  hardly,  I  venture  to  hope,  as  the  result  of  his 
visits,  was  the  shocking  "  Evelyn  Innes."  In  those  days 
he  had  fair  straight  hair,  his  eyes  were  pale  blue,  and 
his  complexion  light  in  hue.  He  always  looked  to  me 
like  a  living  water  color.  One  may  note,  in  studying 
Walter  Sickert's  portrait  of  him,  the  feeling  that  one  is 
looking  right  through  his  head  into  a  sky  behind.  But 
one  forgot  his  personal  appearance  when  under  the  charm 
of  his  vivid  conversation. 

Morton  Fullerton,  who  took  Blowitz's  place  on  the 
London  Times,  told  me  a  humorous  story  of  Lord  Tenny 
son  which  deserves  recording.  He  was  walking  with 
the  Poet  Laureate  near  his  place  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
when  they  saw  at  a  distance  what  appeared  to  be  two 
wandering  tourists.  The  famous  man  showed  and  spoke 
with  every  sign  of  perturbation,  palpably  annoyed  by  the 
approach  of  mere  curiosity  seekers.  The  intruders 


152       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

passed  without  the  least  recognition  of  the  presence  of 
genius,  when  the  poet  broke  out  in  even  stronger  accents 
of  annoyance,  "  Why,  they  didn't  even  look  at  me !  " 

I  have  visited  the  quaint  and  ancient  house  of  Coventry 
Patmore  at  Lymington,  some  little  way  south  of  South 
ampton,  a  very  old  brick  structure  furnished  with  a  beau 
tiful  and  striking  simplicity  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
dress  and  characters  of  its  inmates.  The  Angel  of  the 
House,  to  whom  the  poet  addressed  so  many  of  his  verses, 
had  gone  some  time  before,  leaving  behind  her  two  daugh 
ters  whose  apparel  in  both  cut  and  texture  reminded  me 
always  of  the  clothes  of  my  own  Quaker  people  — . 
more  so  than  of  any  other  persons  I  have  ever  met, 
though  the  Patmores  were  devout  Roman  Catholics.  It 
is  interesting  to  speculate  upon  the  tenuous  laurels  of  one 
so  devoted  to  work  of  the  sincerest  and  most  artistic 
character,  whose  present  fame  seems  so  largely  to  rest 
on  the  beautiful  and  touching  lines  of  "  The  Toys,"  a 
single  poem  out  of  several  volumes. 

Sir  Richard  Burton  is  a  man  I  am  proud  to  have  num 
bered  among  my  acquaintances,  and  a  man  of  more  strik 
ing  appearance  and  assured  greatness  I  have  never  seen. 
He  was  a  large  man,  and  looked  like  nothing  so  much  as 
an  old  lion  —  short  gray  hair  and  a  bronzed  skin  seamed 
with  scars,  and  a  manner  that  bespoke  the  independence 
that  so  marked  his  striking  career.  His  knowledge  of 
Arabic  and  his  miraculous  escape  from  the  perils  of  his 
self-imposed  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  with  all  the  qualities 
of  heart  and  mind  that  this  bespoke,  entitled  him  to  al 
most  any  gift  at  the  hands  of  Government,  but  his  im 
patience  of  control  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  work 
with  others.  His  beautiful  and  almost  too  pious  wife 


ARTS  AND  LETTERS  153 

was  a  fit  mate  for  him  in  personality,  making  them  a  won 
derful  couple  merely  to  sit  and  watch. 

One  of  the  delectable  old  English  country  houses  where 
I  was  often  welcomed  was  that  of  Sir  Lawrence  Jones, 
where  I  shall  never  forget  the  little  play,  quite  in  the 
manner  of  the  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  episode  in  "  A  Mid 
summer  Night's  Dream,"  which  was  given  one  evening 
by  the  peasants  of  the  neighborhood  for  the  edification 
of  the  quality.  It  was  redolent  with  the  same  unconscious 
humor  which  Shakespeare  made  immortal,  and  provided 
us  with  laughter  and  delicious  phrases  from  an  older 
time,  which  lasted  many  a  day.  Sir  Lawrence  inherited 
a  trunkful  of  documents  and  old  letters  from  his  grand 
parents'  time,  through  which  he  went  one  day  with  the 
intention  of  proving  the  general  worthlessness  of  them 
all  before  condemning  them  to  destruction.  Among 
much  that  had  lost  all  value  he  discovered  an  envelope 
superscribed  in  his  grandmother's  handwriting  with  a 
note  that  stated  the  lock  of  hair  it  contained  to  be  that 
of  the  great  Napoleon,  cut  from  his  head  just  after  his 
death  by  General  Montholon,  who  was  one  of  the  former 
emperor's  suite  at  St.  Helena,  and  given  by  him  to  Sir 
Lawrence's  grandfather.  He  was  generous  enough  to 
share  this  with  me,  and  I  have  it  still,  with  the  authenti 
cation,  "  Cut  from  Napoleon's  head  immediately  after 
his  death,"  and  signed  with  my  friend's  name. 

My  early  friendship  with  that  shy  and  retiring  woman 
of  many  gifts,  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett,  has  been 
mentioned,  and  it  was  to  her  that  I  sent  that  unfortu 
nate  child  of  genius,  the  sculptor  John  Donoghue,  who 
made  an  admirable  portrait  bust  of  her  little  son  Lionel 
after  his  untimely  death.  Donoghue  was  discovered  by 


154       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Oscar  Wilde  in  Chicago,  where  he  was  working  on  tomb 
stones  and  memorials  of  that  nature.  His  ability  was 
so  marked  that  one  of  the  rich  men  of  that  city  sent  him 
to  Rome,  and  there  as  the  climax  of  his  artistic  career  he 
modeled  not  only  his  beautiful  "  Sophocles,"  but  a  heroic 
figure  called  "  The  Spirit,"  a  conception  so  huge  that 
nothing  less  than  the  dome  of  the  ancient  Baths  of  Dio 
cletian  would  suffice  for  its  production.  I  have  a  photo 
graph  of  it,  showing  the  sculptor  not  reaching  to  the 
knee  of  the  seated  figure. 

It  was  intended  to  exhibit  it  at  the  Columbian  Exposi 
tion  in  1893,  and  the  gigantic  plaster  mass  was  cut  into 
sections  and  shipped  to  New  York  from  Rome  for  that 
purpose.  But  the  size  of  these  fragments  was  so  great 
that  they  could  not  be  transported  by  railway  to  their 
destination.  The  steamship  company  by  which  they 
had  been  sent  demanded  their  removal  and  I  was  noti 
fied  to  that  effect  as  the  friend  of  Donoghue.  I  went  to 
the  Commissioner  of  Parks  in  New  York,  and  offered  him 
the  statue,  which  he  would  have  placed  overlooking  one 
of  the  lagoons  —  provided  I  defrayed  the  expense. 
This  was  greater  than  I  could  afford,  and  this  mas 
terpiece  was  broken  into  small  bits  and  scattered  over 
the  surface  of  empty  lots  near  the  docks.  Donoghue's 
disappointments  proved  too  much  for  him  after  he  re 
turned  to  America,  and  he  died  by  his  own  act. 

It  was  with  John  Sargent  again  that  I  saw  the  "  Aga 
memnon  "  given  at  Radleigh  College,  Oxford,  and  once 
more  we  were  doomed  to  a  thorough  drenching  from  the 
rain.  But  he  escaped  another  downpour  when  the  same 
play  was  given  in  the  Harvard  Stadium,  escaping  also 
one  of  the  most  laughable  spectacles  that  great  tragedies 
sometimes  lend  themselves  to  in  the  most  unexpected 


ARTS  AND  LETTERS  155 

manner.  Part  of  the  orchestra  was  delayed,  and  the  per 
formance  began  without  that  knowledge  having  been  con 
veyed  to  the  stage  management.  The  play  was  prema 
turely  opened  by  the  appearance  of  the  Herald  on  the 
battlements  when,  word  being  given  him,  he  did  not  de 
liver  his  lines,  but  sat  down  on  the  parapet  and  dangled 
long  legs  over  them  in  spite  of  the  rain.  Presently 
the  belated  instrumentalists  arrived,  running  to  escape 
being  soaked,  and  ducking  down  to  their  quarters  under 
the  altar  like  frightened  rabbits.  This  altar  had  practi 
cable  steps  on  one  side  only,  and  when  George  Riddle 
appeared  as  Tiresias  followed  by  his  attendants,  as  he 
stalked  serenely  in  front  the  bearer  of  the  libation  tripped 
and  spilled  it  all  over  the  platform,  and  the  bearer  of  the 
sacred  flame  stepped  on  the  wrong  side,  with  the  result 
that  the  frightened  violinists  below  were  abruptly  stopped 
by  another  pair  of  long  legs  falling  through  the  approach 
to  the  altar,  while  the  sacred  fire  never  was  lighted. 

I  was  present  at  a  gathering  in  the  old  Press  Club 
in  Chicago  during  the  closing  days  of  Sir  Henry  Irving's 
last  engagement  in  that  city.  The  great  tragedian  was 
suffering  then  from  what  eventually  brought  about  his 
death.  When  he  was  called  upon  to  respond  to  the  en 
comiums  which  had  just  been  pronounced  upon  his  work, 
he  rose  and  stood  silent  before  that  gathering  of  the  rep 
resentatives  of  all  the  newspapers  there  vainly  trying 
through  the  space  of  minutes  to  gather  his  thoughts.  I 
cannot  forget  the  anxious  face  of  his  son  Laurence,  or 
the  suspense  that  hung  like  a  threat  above  the  assemblage. 
But  men  of  the  stage  long  since  learned  self-command, 
and  he  spoke  at  last,  slowly  and  impressively,  gathering 
strength  as  he  proceeded,  until  he  closed  with  a  ring  of 
himself  in  his  best  days. 


156       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

One  of  the  compensations  for  the  arduous  life  that 
must  be  led  by  one  who  seeks  a  career  as  a  public  per 
former,  whether  actor  or  singer,  may  be  found  in  the 
records  of  this  chapter,  which  recount  only  a  few  of 
the  interesting  events  that  have  befallen  me  outside  the 
strict  limits  of  my  profession,  and  but  few  of  the  host 
of  men  and  women  of  note  whom  I  have  met  and  known 
in  Europe  and  America.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say 
that  there  are  few  bearers  of  distinguished  names  in  the 
world  which  takes  beauty,  in  sound,  in  form,  in  color,  or 
in  word,  for  its  daily  worship,  whom  I  have  not  numbered 
among  my  friends  in  my  own  day  and  generation. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PHANTOMS    OF    HARMONY 

Was  it  a  vision,  or  a  waking  dream? 

Fled  is  that  music:  —  Do  I  wake  or  sleep? 

EMIL  SAUER,  the  pianist,  was  among  my  valued  friends 
in  London  at  this  stage  of  my  progress,  and  it  is  to  him 
that  I  owe  later  one  of  the  charming  experiences  of  my 
life.  He  played  his  own  beautiful  piano  concerto  with 
the  Philharmonic  Orchestra  in  New  York,  and  its  per 
formance  gave  me  a  vision  of  pure  music,  much  as  I  am 
able  to  visualize  the  characters  I  assume  on  the  stage.  I 
was  in  a  box  at  Carnegie  Hall,  and  as  Sauer  played  his 
delightful  strains,  I  was  wholly  detached  from  my  sur 
roundings.  I  became  aware  that  it  was  a  summer  morn 
ing,  with  the  weather  fine  but  hot.  Toward  noon  the 
heat  grew  oppressive,  and  the  engaging  landscape  spread 
before  me  was  of  no  importance  in  comparison  with  the 
need  for  the  refreshing  shade  of  a  great  tree.  A  storm 
was  brewing,  and  finally  broke;  and  after  it  came  a  superb 
sunset.  A  splendid  cool  and  purple  night  followed;  the 
dawn  approached,  and  the  sun  arose  in  a  blaze  of  glory. 
This  in  brief  was  the  distinct  story  of  a  poet's  long  day; 
no  words  can  describe  it,  music  only  could  voice  the  com 
poser's  vision. 

Seeking  out  Sauer  after  the  concert,  I  was  delighted  to 
learn  that,  though  his  concerto  had  not  been  programed 
in  any  such  way,  these  were  actually  the  thoughts  and 
experiences  which  he  had  in  mind  while  writing  this  noble 

157 


•158       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

piece,  which  is  far  too  little  known  and  should  be  sought 
out  by  pianists  and  added  to  their  repertories. 

The  singer  of  songs  has  the  advantage  of  the  words, 
which  have  been  the  source  of  inspiration  for  the  music. 
But  an  instrumental  writer  appeals  directly  through  music 
alone  to  the  emotions  of  his  audience.  In  most  cases  the 
audience  enjoys  what  is  written  without  comprehend 
ing  what  the  composer  has  intended.  The  voices  of  his 
instruments  are  the  only  ones  at  his  command,  and  in  a 
symphony  words  are  out  of  place.  The  world  must 
gather  from  songs  without  words  such  comfort  as  it  may. 

I  have  always  felt  that  for  songs  of  a  certain  character 
some  accompaniment  should  be  devised  midway  between 
that  of  the  piano  and  that  of  a  full  orchestra.  A  num 
ber  of  pieces  have  been  written  for  me  in  the  endeavor 
to  illustrate  more  richly  than  is  possible  with  the  sound 
of  the  piano  the  meaning  of  the  poet's  word.  A  beau 
tiful  piece  was  composed  for  me  by  Ernest  Walker  of  Ox 
ford  to  William  Morris's  poem  u  From  the  Upland  to 
the  Sea  "  in  which  the  voice  has  the  advantage  of  declaim 
ing  the  words  and  takes  an  equal  place  with  the  pianoforte 
and  the  voices  of  a  string  quartette.  Walford  Davies 
was  kind  enough  to  set  Browning's  "  Prospice  "  to  music 
for  me,  in  which  the  voice  is  heard  with  a  quintette  of 
piano  and  strings.  As  an  ample  suggestion  of  orchestral 
music  and  much  less  expensive,  I  suggest  to  present-day 
composers  that  they  consider  this  means  for  expressing 
themselves,  as  any  new  mode  for  making  known  one's 
artistic  thoughts  should  be  of  value. 

At  this  time  of  my  career  I  became  particularly  inter 
ested  in  the  ballads  of  Loewe,  the  clerical  contemporary 
of  Schubert,  who  left  the  church  to  devote  himself  to  the 
composition  of  songs.  I  commend  his  splendid  ballads 


PHANTOMS  OF  HARMONY  159 

to  all  singers,  for  they  are  among  the  best  and  most  com 
prehensible  of  music  stories,  so  to  speak,  that  exist  in 
all  song  literature.  What  can  be  finer  than  the  Scotch 
ballads  of  "  Archibald  Douglas,"  and  the  gruesome  "  Ed 
ward,"  or  the  fantastic  fairy  tale  of  "  Tom  the  Rhymer  "  ? 
Loewe's  setting  of  "  The  Erl  King,"  which  Schubert  had 
done  before  him,  is  by  many  considered  equally  fine,  and 
nothing  in  the  whole  range  of  comedy  can  excel  his  de 
lightful  "  Wedding  Song."  There  is  no  mystery  about 
these  ballads,  and  yet  they  are  exemplifications  of  the 
highest  form  of  their  art.  Flowers  of  music  are  indeed 
as  beautiful  and  as  amazing  in  their  variety  as  natural 
blossoms. 

Besides  giving  many  recitals  and  appearing  in  works 
which  I  have  already  mentioned,  I  sang  in  Sullivan's  ora 
torio  "  The  Martyr  of  Antioch  "  and  his  cantata  "  The 
Golden  Legend";  in  Hofmann's  "  Melusine";  in  Men 
delssohn's  "  Walpurgis  Night,"  and  in  Rossini's  "  Moses 
in  Egypt."  I  had  also  the  opportunity  in  the  spring  of 
1895  of  taking  part  at  Crystal  Palace  under  the  conduc- 
torship  of  Hubert  Parry  in  his  remarkable  oratorio 
*  Job,"  which  should  be  more  frequently  heard  in  Amer 
ica.  Notwithstanding  the  somberness  of  the  subject,  it  is 
a  composition  of  great  musical  value  and  affords,  to  the 
barytone  part  in  particular,  one  of  the  finest  modern  pieces 
of  musical  declamation.  The  title  role  was  originally 
written  for  Plunkett  Greene,  who  created  the  part  and 
rendered  it  many  times  with  superb  dramatic  feeling. 

Tinel's  "  St.  Francis  "  was  performed  by  me  soon  after 
this  under  the  conductorship  of  Halle,  with  Prout's 
"  Hereward,"  and  Goring  Thomas's  posthumous  work, 
uThe  Swan  and  the  Skylark,"  while  Berlioz's  "  Te 
Deum  "  and  Verdi's  "  Requiem  "  followed  in  quick  sue- 


160       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

cession.  Gounod's  "  Redemption  "  and  Mendelssohn's 
"  Elijah  "  I  also  sang  before  the  opera  season  of  1895. 

"  Elijah  "  is  almost  sufficiently  dramatic  to  be  included 
in  the  operatic  repertory.  The  experiment  was  tried  in 
England  of  putting  that  oratorio  on  the  stage,  and  Erick- 
son  Bushnell,  the  well-known  American  singer,  a  man  of 
considerable  private  means,  was  also  smitten  with  the 
idea  and  attempted  to  give  "  Elijah  "  in  operatic  form. 

Many  years  afterward,  when  I  myself  had  frequently 
sung  "  Elijah  "  in  New  York,  I  was  seriously  urged  to 
render  it  on  the  stage  in  a  series  of  performances.  I 
deliberated  upon  this,  realizing  the  extreme  difficulty  of 
mounting  a  masterpiece  of  oratorio  so  that  even  to  en 
thusiasts  it  would  be  in  the  least  acceptable  as  an  opera. 
The  spirit  of  the  work,  to  be  retained  at  all,  would  have 
to  be  communicated  to  the  actors  and  singers  by  an  ar 
tistic  director,  to  whom  literature,  religion,  and  poetry 
were  of  paramount  importance  and  of  equal  value.  No 
mere  stage  manager  could  do  anything  with  "  Elijah  " 
as  an  opera.  The  only  person  whom  I  have  heard  speak 
with  real  poetic  and  lofty  religious  insight  into  the  pos 
sibilities  of  such  a  production  is  that  admirable  Welsh  en 
thusiast,  the  choral  director  Tali  Esen  Morgan.  But 
such  are  the  difficulties  that  would  attend  a  production 
of  this  kind,  that  it  is  better  to  live  in  the  hope  and  ex 
pectation  of  the  future  possibility  of  some  such  artistic 
wonder,  rather  than  to  have  in  the  retrospect  blasted 
hopes.  Mendelssohn  in  writing  the  "  Elijah  "  had  a 
veritable  inspiration,  and  had  he  intended  that  work  to  be 
produced  other  than  as  it  was  originally  produced  as  an 
oratorio  at  the  Birmingham  Festival  in  1846,  he  would 
have  elaborated  it  accordingly;  as  it  stands  so  it  should 
be  performed,  and  then  every  spiritual  member  of  the 


PHANTOMS  OF  HARMONY  161 

audience  can  visualize  to  his  heart's  content  and  come 
away  satisfied. 

I  remember  once  hearing  William  Stoll,  Jr.,  a  Phil 
adelphia  conductor  of  orchestra  and  an  excellent  violinist, 
declare  that  he  had  the  gift  of  auralizing  music;  he  knew 
the  symphonies  so  well,  he  assured  me,  that  if  he  desired 
to  hear  one  of  them  as  he  was  about  to  go  to  sleep,  all 
he  had  to  do  was  to  start  it  in  his  mind  and  he  would  hear 
a  perfect  performance,  as  if  played  by  master  instrumen 
talists,  from  the  first  note  to  the  closing  bar. 

This  reminds  me  of  what  I  have  read  of  Goethe,  who, 
if  he  wished  to  see  again  a  statue  or  a  picture  from  some 
gallery  in  Europe,  would  sit  quietly  facing  a  dark  corner 
in  his  study,  concentrate  his  thoughts  upon  the  Venus 
de  Milo  or  some  other  work  of  art,  when  it  would  im 
mediately  seem  to  form  itself  and  to  stand  out,  so  that 
it  appeared  to  his  mind's  eye  as  if  he  were  looking  at  the 
actuality. 

A  Philadelphian  named  Waters  has  told  me  that  he 
once  had  a  distinct  vision  upon  waking  in  the  morning. 
As  he  lay  looking  into  the  room  from  his  bed  he  saw  a  pair 
of  hands  playing  upon  a  curved  keyboard,  unlike  that  of 
any  piano  or  organ  of  which  he  knew.  Years  afterward 
such  keyboards  and  organ  appliances  came  into  existence 
and  are  now  used.  The  strangest  part  of  my  friend's 
narrative  was  that,  at  the  time  he  had  this  prophetic 
vision  of  the  new  keyboard,  he  also  heard  from  the  in 
strument  music  of  the  most  extraordinary  kind,  quite  un 
like  anything  he  had  ever  listened  to. 

The  subject  is  one  of  such  interest  that  I  may  be  par 
doned  if  I  quote  here  a  letter  written  in  1874  by  the  late 
Frances  Ridley  Havergal,  the  English  poetess  and  writer 
of  hymns,  to  her  mother,  in  which  she  says : 


1 62       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

"  In  the  train  I  had  one  of  those  curious  musical  visions, 
which  only  very  rarely  visit  me.  I  hear  strange  and  very 
beautiful  chords,  generally  full,  slow,  and  grand,  succeed 
ing  each  other  in  most  interesting  sequences.  I  do  not  in 
vent  them,  I  could  not  —  they  pass  before  my  mind  and  I 
only  listen.  Now  and  then  my  will  seems  aroused  when  I 
see  ahead  how  some  fine  resolution  might  follow,  and  I 
seem  to  will  that  certain  chords  should  come,  and  then 
they  do  come;  but  then  my  will  seems  suspended  again, 
and  they  go  on  quite  independently. 

"It  is  so  interesting:  the  chords  seem  to  fold  over 
each  other  and  die  away  down  into  music  of  infinite  soft 
ness,  and  then  they  unfold  and  open  out,  as  if  great  cur 
tains  were  being  withdrawn  one  after  another  widening 
the  view,  till,  with  a  gathering  power  and  fullness,  it  seems 
as  if  the  very  skies  were  being  opened  out  before  one, 
and  a  sheet  or  great  blaze  and  glory  of  music,  such  as  my 
outward  ears  never  heard,  gradually  swells  out  in  per 
fectly  sublime  splendor. 

"  This  time  there  was  an  added  feature :  I  seemed 
to  hear  depths  and  heights  of  sound  beyond  the  scale 
which  human  ears  can  receive,  keen,  far-up  octaves,  like 
vividly  twinkling  starlight  of  music,  and  mighty,  slow 
vibrations  of  gigantic  strings  going  down  into  grand 
thunders  of  depths,  octaves  below  anything  otherwise 
appreciable  as  musical  notes. 

'  Then,  all  at  once,  it  seemed  as  if  my  soul  had  got 
a  new  sense,  and  I  could  see  this  inner  music  as  well  as 
hear  it;  and  then  it  was  like  gazing  down  into  marvelous 
abysses  of  sound,  and  up  into  dazzling  regions  of  what,  to 
the  eye,  would  have  been  light  and  color,  but  to  the  new 
sense  was  sound.  It  lasted  perhaps  half  an  hour." 

One  is  compelled  either  to  accept  the  statements  of 


PHANTOMS  OF  HARMONY  163 

Mr.  Stoll,  Mr.  Waters,  and  Miss  Havergal,  or  to  brand 
them  as  insane,  or  mendacious,  or  both;  yet,  if  men  do 
not  hear  and  see  these  visions,  whence  come  the  inspi 
rations  that  lead  to  the  productions  of  great  works  of  art? 
We  who  perform  what  has  been  written  and  those  who 
listen  to  our  performances  are  the  living  witnesses  of 
the  fact  that  such  inspiration  has  been  vouchsafed  to 
mankind. 

In  no  other  way  than  through  his  extemporization  and 
his  written  work  could  Beethoven  have  given  proof  to 
the  world  that  he  was  the  chosen  instrument  to  com 
municate  a  Heaven-sent  message.  Truly,  the  poet  is  born 
and  not  made,  and  just  as  truly  will  he  speak  to  the  world 
in  the  language  of  the  Infinite,  regardless  of  whether 
the  world  at  the  time  understands  it  or  not. 

Several  appearances  at  the  Monday  "  Pops "  with 
Joachim,  Sauer,  Berwick  and  others  in  fine  chamber  music 
followed  "  Elijah,"  but  I  took  the  greatest  pleasure  that 
season  in  the  Bach  Festival,  in  all  three  performances 
of  which  I  had  the  distinction  of  being  engaged,  singing 
in  the  "  Passion  Music,"  and  in  the  cantatas  "  Wachet 
Auf "  and  "  O  Ewigkeit,"  Joachim  playing  the  violin 
obbligato,  all  being  under  the  leadership  of  Villiers  Stan 
ford,  who  had  brought  the  chorus  to  a  high  pitch  of  per 
fection.  It  was  during  the  previous  season  of  the  Bach 
Choir  that  John  Runciman,  who  had  taken  Bernard 
Shaw's  place  on  the  Saturday  Review,  impertinently  said 
of  the  chorus  that  "  the  altos  were  evidently  selected  from 
among  those  ladies  who  could  no  longer  sing  soprano." 
This  season  any  such  defect  was  remedied,  and  I  look  back 
upon  the  performances  with  the  greatest  interest  and 
artistic  pleasure. 

I  had  advanced  so  far  in  my  profession  that  I  was  that 


1 64       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

year,  1895,  first  engaged  to  sing  at  the  concerts  of  the 
time-honored  Philharmonic  Society,  when  I  revived  what 
was  almost  a  novelty  to  London,  so  seldom  was  it  per 
formed,  the  fine  scene  for  Lysiart  from  Weber's  "  Eu- 
ryanthe,"  under  the  conductorship  of  Mackenzie. 

By  way  of  filling  in  the  time,  I  gave  the  second  of  my 
own  concerts  that  year  at  St.  James's  Hall,  consisting 
of  music  by  Brahms,  in  which  I  was  aided  by  Fanny  Davies 
at  the  piano,  Signor  Arbos,  the  Spanish  violinist,  Mrs. 
Henschel,  Miss  Agnes  Janson,  and  William  Shakespeare, 
in  the  quartettes  of  the  master's  Opus  No.  112,  which 
includes  the  delightful  and  seldom  heard  "  Love  Songs." 

One  of  the  noted  figures  in  the  musical  life  of  London 
at  that  time  was  Franz  Korbay,  whose  Hungarian  gypsy 
tunes  were  being  sung  by  every  one  able  to  cope  with  them. 
Korbay  was  as  well  known  in  New  York  as  in  the  British 
metropolis.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  exhibitions  of 
Hungarian  enthusiasm  I  have  ever  seen  was  given  at  a 
fashionable  soiree  in  London,  where  there  was  dancing 
toward  the  end  of  the  evening.  Korbay  caught  the  eye 
of  the  conductor  of  the  orchestra,  which  was  entirely 
composed  of  his  own  countrymen.  The  conductor 
seemed  to  read  the  thought  of  his  compatriot;  signaling 
to  his  men,  they  at  once  struck  into  one  of  the  character 
istic  dances  of  their  people.  Madame  Korbay  broke  off 
the  conversation  she  was  having  in  another  part  of  the 
room,  turned,  and  made  her  way  immediately  to  her 
husband  near  the  orchestra.  As  if  realizing  that  some 
thing  remarkable  was  about  to  happen,  every  one  fell 
silent  and  cleared  a  space  in  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kor 
bay,  though  not  on  speaking  terms  and  about  to  be  di 
vorced,  entered  with  the  utmost  spirit  into  one  of  the 
gypsy  dances,  which  they  carried  through  in  the  most 


PHANTOMS  OF  HARMONY  165 

amorous  fashion.  The  result  was  that  court  proceedings 
were  almost  stopped  and  courtship  resumed,  for  the  spir 
ited  couple  were  on  the  point  of  making  up  for  good  and 
all.  The  effect  produced  on  that  smart  London  draw 
ing-room  was  indescribable,  but  it  set  things  going. 

The  Irish-American  singer  Dennis  O'Sullivan  was  one 
of  a  house  party  in  an  ancient  English  country  mansion, 
where  I,  too,  was  a  guest.  A  stately  dinner  was  being 
given  at  which  were  present  a  duchess,  a  famous  dowager, 
a  celebrated  general,  a  noted  parliamentarian,  and  other 
persons  of  distinction.  The  conversation  lagging, 
O'Sullivan  pulled  from  his  hip  pocket  his  inseparable  com 
panion,  a  tin  penny  whistle,  in  the  manipulation  of  which 
he  was  an  adept,  and  played,  to  the  amazement  of  the 
guests  and  the  chagrin  of  his  amiable  hostess.  Yet  she 
thanked  him  afterward,  for  from  that  moment  her  din 
ner  party  was  a  success,  where  previously  failure  had 
stared  her  in  the  face.  He,  too,  had  set  things  going. 

The  operatic  activities  of  1895  included  several  per 
formances  of  Auber's  "  Fra  Diavolo,"  which  was  given  at 
the  particular  request  of  that  operatic  enthusiast,  the 
Prince  of  Wales.  Unless  duties  kept  him  from  Covent 
Garden,  he  occupied  his  seat  in  the  corner  of  the  club 
box,  where  he  was  joined  by  his  intimates.  He  some 
times  came  upon  the  stage  through  the  narrow  private 
passage  made  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall  of  that  old 
theatre  many  years  before,  to  congratulate  the  artists, 
many  of  whom  he  knew. 

In  "  Fra  Diavolo  "  I  took  the  part  of  Lord  Allcash, 
and  with  Madame  Amadi,  an  Englishwoman,  as  Lady 
Allcash,  we  performed  our  parts  in  English  when  we 
spoke  together,  and  in  assumed  broken  Italian  when  we 
were  speaking  or  singing  with  the  others.  De  Lucia 


166       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

was  admirable  in  the  title  role  and  Zerlina  fascinatingly 
performed  by  the  beautiful  American  soprano  Marie 
Engle,  while  my  old  associates  of  "  Falstaff  "  days,  Pini 
Corsi  and  Arimondi,  were  irresistibly  funny  as  the  two 
brigands. 

In  this  opera  I  altered  the  style  of  dress  that  had  up 
to  that  time  prevailed  upon  the  stage,  and  instead  of 
furnishing  the  English  lord  with  a  pair  of  "  Piccadilly 
weepers  "  and  an  exaggerated  checked  suit,  a  la  Lord 
Dundreary,  I  made  my  character  a  veritable  John  Bull, 
for  that  worthy  as  he  is  known  to  the  world  to-day  came 
into  being  about  1830,  at  the  time  "  Fra  Diavolo  "  was 
written.  I  went  back  to  the  top  boots,  the  blue  swallow- 
tailed  coat  with  gold  buttons,  the  frilled  shirt  front  and 
choker  collar,  and  the  mutton-chop  whiskers,  and  en 
joyed  masquerading  in  the  part  to  my  heart's  content. 

Another  novelty  of  the  season  of  1895  was  Frederic 
Cowen's  grand  opera  "  Harold,"  a  story  of  the  time  of 
William  the  Conqueror,  which  character  I  assumed,  with 
Madame  Albani  and  the  Russian  tenor  Philip  Brozel;  the 
principals  and  chorus  in  this  sumptuous  production  all 
using  the  English  language  in  which  the  opera  was  origi 
nally  written.  Nobody  seemed  to  think  of  it  as  an  inno 
vation,  for  every  one  could  understand  the  words  as  we 
sang  them,  which  was  a  rarity  in  the  classic  precincts  of 
Covent  Garden. 

I  had  that  season  the  interesting  experience  of  singing 
both  with  Calve  and  Madame  Gemma  Bellincioni  in 
"  Cavalleria  Rusticana,"  and  in  noticing  the  difference  in 
their  handling  of  the  role  of  Santuzza  and  in  comparing 
them  with  the  great  Italian  actress  Eleonora  Duse,  who 
had  frequently  performed  the  same  part  on  the  London 
stage.  Duse  was  all  intelligence,  Calve  was  all  fire,  and 


PHANTOMS  OF  HARMONY  167 

Bellincioni  was  all  superbly  controlled  emotion.  I  have 
rarely  been  more  affected  by  any  one  with  whom  I  have 
acted  than  by  Bellincioni,  who  apparently  did  not  think 
of  herself  as  a  singer,  indeed  her  voice  was  not  of  the 
best  quality  and  at  the  time  it  was  in  its  decline ;  yet  she 
possessed  that  indefinable  personality  and  magnetism 
which  excited  the  deepest  emotion  in  the  minds  of  her 
auditors. 

I  always  had  been  able  to  arrange  with  my  managers 
that  I  should  be  allowed  to  accept  other  work  between 
my  operatic  performances;  and  this  season,  under  Richter, 
I  sang  Wotan's  Farewell  from  "  The  Valkyrie  ";  under 
Mottl,  Hans  Sachs's  monologue  and  duet  from  the  third 
act  of  "  The  Mastersingers  "  and  the  Lament  of  Am- 
fortas  from  the  first  act  of  "  Parsifal  " ;  also,  with  the 
same  conductor  in  the  second  act  of  "  The  Flying  Dutch 
man  "  as  Daland,  and  as  Hagen  in  the  third  act  of  "  Die 
Gotterdammerung."  I  also  sang  in  the  third  act  of 
u  Parsifal  "  with  Van  Dyck,  who  was  then  in  the  height 
of  his  fame  because  of  his  wonderful  impersonation  of 
the  title  role  at  Bayreuth,  and  under  Siegfried  Wagner  as 
Alberich  in  the  first  scene  from  his  father's  "  Rheingold," 
a  part  I  was  to  do  later  upon  the  stage  on  many  occasions. 

The  willing  horse  was  being  driven  pretty  hard,  but 
he  was  in  double  harness  with  Song  and  did  not  mind  it. 
He  enjoyed  all  that  came  his  way  and  entered  then,  as 
ever  since,  into  the  spirit  of  everything  he  has  undertaken, 
for  the  reason  that  he  has  undertaken  nothing  that  he 
did  not  enjoy. 


CHAPTER  XX 

FROM   GRAVE    TO   GAY 

Wherein  I  spake  of  most  disastrous  chances, 
Of  moving  accidents. —  Shakespeare. 

DURING  the  autumn  and  winter  of  1895  I  gave  a 
number  of  concerts  of  old  English  music  with  Arnold 
Dolmetsch,  accompanied  by  the  old-fashioned  instru 
ments,  the  harpsichord,  the  lute,  and  the  viola  da  gamba. 
Mr.  Dolmetsch  was  a  distinguished  authority  on  the  sub 
ject  of  old  musical  instruments  and  there  was  scarcely  a 
great  old  house  in  England  that  did  not  yield  up  to  him 
its  clavichords,  spinets,  and  virginals,  which  were  restored 
under  his  direction;  their  intimate  and  refined  sounds 
afforded  a  distinct  sense  of  relief  after  the  stress  of  so 
much  modern  music.  Personally,  it  gave  me  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  hear  and  take  part  in  the  quaint  music  of 
Jenkins,  Laniere,  Purcell,  and  William  and  Henry  Lawes. 

It  happened  that  once  while  Dolmetsch  was  accom 
panying  me  on  the  harpsichord,  as  I  sang  Henry  Purcell's 
remarkable  "  Let  the  Dreadful  Engines,"  I  observed  a 
cat  quietly  walking  across  the  back  of  the  hall.  He 
glanced  up  the  middle  aisle  and  caught  sight  of  me,  in 
whom  he  doubtless  recognized  a  sympathetic  friend,  for 
I  am  fond  of  animals.  A  dog  has  come  upon  the  stage 
to  me,  two  rats  have  played  at  my  feet  for  a  considerable 
time  in  the  glare  of  the  footlights;  and  at  a  concert  a  bat 
kept  flying  about  my  head  —  much  to  my  discomfiture, 
for  to  that  sort  of  creature  I  am  not  partial.  But  at 

168 


FROM  GRAVE  TO  GAY  169 

this  concert  the  cat  walked  up  the  aisle,  leaped  upon  the 
stage,  arched  his  back,  rubbed  his  fur  against  my  leg, 
elevated  his  tail,  and  purred  with  great  satisfaction  as 
he  made  a  series  of  figures  of  eight  between  my  feet. 

Dolmetsch,  seated  with  his  back  to  me,  saw  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on.  I  had  to  continue  with  my  song,  but 
when  a  young  girl  burst  into  a  giggle  of  merriment,  the 
whole  audience  went  into  shrieks  of  delight. 

Presently  the  distinguished  Belgian  harpsichordist, 
turning  to  see  the  cause  of  the  disturbance  and  catching 
sight  of  the  cat,  hastily  snatched  from  the  piano  desk  the 
whole  volume  of  music  and  hurled  it  at  the  beast,  which 
with  a  savage  yowl  sprang  into  the  air,  almost  into  my 
face,  and  dashed  away.  The  laughter  of  the  audience 
continued  so  long  and  loud  that  we  performers  were 
obliged  to  leave  the  stage,  not  to  return  for  many  minutes, 
when  some  semblance  of  order  had  been  restored.  This 
incident  happened  near  the  end  of  the  concert  and  pro 
vided  an  anticlimax  as  unexpected  as  it  would  have  been 
effective  if  it  had  happened  in  the  proper  place. 

That  season  I  also  had  the  great  and  interesting  pleas 
ure  of  making  my  appearance  by  Royal  command  at  the 
State  Concerts  in  Buckingham  Palace,  an  honor  afforded 
me  several  times  later  on. 

Upon  this  first  occasion  the  late  Adelina  Patti  was  the 
principal  singer,  and  though  she  was  past  her  prime  she 
was  idolized  by  the  British  public  and  acclaimed  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  by  as  distinguished  a  noble  and 
diplomatic  assemblage  as  any  country  could  boast  of. 

Mme.  Patti,  while  not  being  a  great  actress,  was  al 
ways  adequate  in  the  histrionic  side  of  her  parts,  though, 
after  the  fashion  of  her  day,  she  invariably  came  to  the 
footlights  to  sing  her  great  arias  regardless  of  the  busi- 


i;o       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ness  of  the  stage ;  its  occupants  might  do  as  they  pleased 
as  long  as  she  had  the  undivided  attention  of  the  audience. 
She  was  indeed  a  song  bird,  par  excellence,  and  never 
allowed  anything  to  upset  either  her  equanimity  or  her 
comfort.  I  shall  never  forget  her  closing  scene  in 
u  A'ida,"  where  she  and  the  tenor  are  supposed  to  be 
immured  in  a  tomb  of  stone.  At  the  close  of  the  duet 
Patti,  who  had  instructed  the  stage  manager  to  make  her 
comfortable,  would  carefully  adjust  a  sofa  cushion  which 
had  been  placed  conveniently  at  hand,  would  kick  with 
one  high-heeled  Parisian  slipper  a  train  around  behind  her 
and  assisted  by  the  tenor  would  compose  herself  in  grace 
ful  position  —  and  die. 

The  last  time  I  ever  saw  Mme.  Patti  upon  the  stage 
was  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  at  a  gala  performance  at 
the  time  of  Queen  Victoria's  Diamond  Jubilee,  when  the 
attention  of  the  audience  was  attracted  even  more  to  the 
splendor  of  her  dress  than  to  the  brilliancy  of  her  voice. 
Upon  her  corsage  there  blazed  a  solid  front  of  diamonds, 
and  I  was  told  that  every  gem  in  her  possession  had  been 
carefully  sewed  upon  the  bodice  of  her  dress,  ropes  of 
pearls  hung  from  her  neck,  her  hands  were  covered  with 
jewels,  and  a  diamond  tiara  sat  upon  her  graceful  head. 
So  valuable  was  the  world-renowned  prima  donna  that, 
besides  her  husband,  she  was  guarded  by  several  de 
tectives,  one  of  whom  was  with  her  in  the  carriage  upon 
her  way  to  the  opera  house,  while  another  sat  upon  the 
box.  One  of  these  remained  outside  the  door  of  her 
dressing  room  throughout  the  evening,  while  the  other, 
with  a  companion,  escorted  her  to  the  stage,  remaining 
at  her  entrance  and  exit,  guarding  her  as  she  returned  to 
her  dressing  room  and  later  to  her  hotel. 

The  manner  of  one's  bidding  to  participate  in  any 


FROM  GRAVE  TO  GAY  171 

royal  musical  function  began  with  a  polite  note  from  Sir 
Walter  Parratt,  who  had  the  title  of  Master  of  the 
Queen's  Musick,  written  from  his  house  in  the  thickness 
of  the  wall  of  Windsor  Castle,  signifying  the  pleasure  of 
her  Majesty  Queen  Victoria  that  one  should  take  part 
in  the  State  Concert  held  at  Buckingham  Palace  on  such 
and  such  an  evening  in  conjunction  with  such  and  such 
artists. 

The  Queen  herself  had  never  listened  to  any  music  in 
public  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  the  Prince  Consort, 
many  years  before.  At  these  State  Concerts,  though  no 
fee  was  offered,  each  artist,  even  Patti,  who  received  a 
thousand  guineas  a  night  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
was  given  by  the  bearer  of  the  Queen's  purse  an  hono 
rarium  of  ten  guineas  by  way  of  covering  the  incidental 
expenses  to  which  an  artist  might  be  put.  Any  appear 
ance  before  the  Queen  herself  was  recompensed  by  ex 
quisite  courtesy  and  a  personal  gift  from  her  Majesty, 
several  of  which  I  have  the  honor  to  have  received. 

As  I  have  indicated,  we  were  singing  in  four  languages 
upon  the  stage  at  Covent  Garden,  though  the  institution 
was  still  officially  known  as  The  Royal  Italian  Opera,  but 
notwithstanding  this  Hans  Richter  suggested  that  he 
would  like  me  to  assist  him  in  performances  in  English 
of  Wagner's  "  Niebelungen  Ring,"  for,  as  he  told  me, 
no  one  was  more  keenly  alive  than  the  master  himself 
to  the  value,  to  the  audience,  of  the  meaning  of  his  text; 
and  he  wished  that,  in  whatever  country  sung,  it  should  be 
rendered  in  the  language  "  understanded  of  the  people." 

At  last  English  was  being  used  upon  many  occasions 
at  Covent  Garden.  The  tenor,  E.  C.  Hedmondt,  who 
had  for  so  long  been  the  leading  spirit  of  the  Carl  Rosa 
Company,  produced  on  October  19,  1895,  on  the  fiftieth 


172       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

anniversary  of  its  first  production,  Wagner's  "  Tann 
hauser  "  in  English  on  that  classic  stage.  Hedmondt 
himself  appeared  as  Tannhauser,  I  as  Wolfram,  Miss 
Margaret  Maclntyre  as  Elizabeth,  Madame  Recoschewitz 
as  Venus,  with  Mr.  Bevan  as  the  Landgrave.  The  con 
ductor  was  Mr.  Feld. 

It  was  while  Tannhauser  was  being  given  during  that 
short  season  that  an  accident  happened  which  amused  us 
as  much  as  it  annoyed  the  management.  The  opening 
scene  of  the  opera  takes  place  in  the  Venusberg,  where 
Tannhauser  is  made  to  witness  several  beautiful  episodes 
from  the  classic  myths  through  the  wiles  of  the  goddess. 
During  this  powerful  arc  lights  were  used,  one  of  which 
was  mounted  for  the  moment  upon  a  stepladder  twenty 
feet  high.  In  the  sudden  change  to  the  valley  of  the 
Wartburg,  Venus  and  the  couch  upon  which  she  lies  were 
successfully  removed;  the  dancing  nymphs  and  fauns  dis 
appeared  from  the  stage,  and  the  scenery  as  by  magic 
arose,  descended,  or  was  drawn  to  either  side.  But  the 
nineteenth  century  stepladder  was  left  peacefully  stand 
ing  in  the  middle  of  the  stage  toward  the  back,  so  situated 
that  any  one  who  climbed  it  would  find  himself  at  the  door 
of  the  ancient  castle  upon  the  hill.  When  Tannhauser,  in 
the  person  of  Mr.  Hedmondt,  turned  to  greet  the  Land 
grave  and  his  friends,  he  found  this  unsightly  object,  the 
harmless  but  necessary  stepladder,  just  where  he  did  not 
need  it  as  an  approach  to  the  castle  where  dwelt  the  saintly 
Elizabeth. 

It  was  during  this  season  that  I  not  only  made  my  first 
appearance  as  "  The  Flying  Dutchman  "  but  as  Wotan  in 
"  The  Valkyrie." 

The  autumn  of  1895  introduced  me  to  festival  work 
in  England,  where  functions  of  this  kind  are  really  carried 


FROM  GRAVE  TO  GAY  173 

on  in  festal  state.  My  first  experience  was  at  the  ancient 
town  of  Gloucester,  in  the  superb  Gothic  cathedral  under 
the  auspices  of  the  most  distinguished  citizens  of  the 
town  and  of  the  neighborhood,  and  under  the  patronage 
of  the  Queen  and  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales.  The 
cathedral  choir  sang,  greatly  augmented  by  the  voices 
of  musical  amateurs  of  the  city,  and  assisted  by  the  choirs 
and  choral  bodies  of  the  neighboring  towns  of  Worces 
ter  and  Hereford,  with  the  sanction  and  under  the  eye 
of  the  bishops  and  clergy  of  these  ancient  dioceses. 
Splendid  music  was  performed  under  the  most  impres 
sive  circumstances  I  had  ever  experienced.  Strains 
of  melody,  miracles  of  harmony,  rose  and  mingled  with 
the  frozen  music  of  the  Gothic  nave  of  the  ancient  sanc 
tuary,  past  the  old  Saxon  pillars  into  delicate  masonry 
that  was  itself  the  melody  for  the  mounting  harmonies 
below.  Outside  the  city  was  en  fete,  flags  and  banners 
everywhere,  and  a  gorgeous  old-world  civic  pageant  to 
mark  the  importance  of  the  celebration.  Just  so  the 
elder  burghers  of  Nuremburg  made  St.  John's  Day 
glorious  as  shown  in  the  mimic  representations  of  "  The 
Mastersingers." 

In  the  cathedral  no  applause  is  ever  permitted,  and  the 
impressiveness  of  the  music  is  thereby  greatly  enhanced. 
An  American  contralto,  in  telling  me  her  experience  at 
one  of  these  cathedral  festivals,  said  she  had  not  been  in 
formed  of  this  unwritten  rule  and  had  not  observed  that 
there  had  been  no  applause  prior  to  her  own  solo.  When 
she  sat  down  after  its  rendering,  in  perfect  silence,  having 
naturally  expected  from  many  previous  experiences  else 
where  evidences  of  approval,  she  was  so  taken  a-back  that 
she  was  scarcely  able  to  finish  the  performance  at  all. 
She  thought  that  she  had  made  a  lamentable  failure,  and 


174       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

that  she  would  never  be  heard  again  in  England,  when  as 
a  matter  of  fact  she  had  made  such  a  success  that  the 
committee  warmly  congratulated  her  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  performance. 

The  surroundings  of  such  an  occasion  as  an  English 
festival  in  a  mediaeval  cathedral  are  so  impressive  beyond 
any  words  of  mine  to  express  that  one  scarcely  wishes 
afterward  to  hear  music  of  that  character  anywhere  else. 
This  was  the  first  of  a  number  of  such  engagements  for 
me,  and  I  am  thankful  indeed  to  have  had  such  notable 
privileges. 

The  day  before  the  Gloucester  festival  opened,  being 
in  the  cathedral  alone  after  a  rehearsal,  I  observed  some 
scaffolding  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  organ  and  judged 
that  repairs  were  being  made.  An  ancient  verger  clad  in 
his  antique  cap  and  gown,  seeing  me  looking  at  the  board 
ing,  volunteered  the  statement,  "  They've  been  doin' 
summat  with  the  horgan,  sir;  they've  took  out  the  old 
mattics  and  'ave  put  the  new  mattics  in." 

It  was  only  two  weeks  later  that  I  sang  for  the  first 
time  at  the  festival  at  Leeds,  where  the  chorus  con 
sisted  of  about  350  voices  carefully  chose-n,  not  only 
from  the  Leeds  Choral  Society,  but  from  the  choral 
bodies  of  Bradford,  Huddersfield,  Halifax,  Dewsbury, 
and  Batley,  in  all  of  which  towns  the  work  to  be  per 
formed  has  previously  been  carefully  prepared.  The  re 
sult,  as  may  be  imagined,  was  a  glory  of  vocal  sound. 

The  conductor  was  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan.  At  the  desk 
his  demeanor  was  quite  different  from  that  of  any  other 
leader  under  whom  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  sing. 
Sullivan  had  thick  dark  hair,  a  swarthy  skin,  and  wore 
glasses.  He  invariably  sat  in  the  usual  high  chair  and 
seemed  to  keep  his  eyes  always  on  the  score  in  front  of 


FROM  GRAVE  TO  GAY  175 

him.  His  beat  was  restrained  and  rather  cramped,  his 
baton  moving  across  the  top  or  up  and  down  the  sides 
of  the  score;  yet  nothing  in  the  world  escaped  the  at 
tention  of  this  quiet,  reserved  little  man,  the  fingers  of 
whose  well-manicured  right  hand  were  invariably  stained 
with  cigarette  smoke. 

To  show  young  artists  what  I  did,  and  what  they  may 
have  to  do,  I  may  say  that  I  made  more  than  130  appear 
ances  in  that  twelvemonth,  and  that  during  this  period 
my  repertory  of  songs  numbered  about  120  pieces,  in 
cluding  duets  and  quartettes,  over  30  selections  sung  with 
orchestra,  about  15  oratorios  given,  10  appearances  in 
5  operas  in  concert  form,  and  25  performances  of  9 
operas  actually  sung  upon  the  operatic  stage. 

I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  I  look  back  with  con 
siderable  pride  upon  this  season,  and  I  find,  upon  con 
sulting  my  bound  volume  of  programs,  in  which  every 
thing  is  numbered,  737  separate  pieces  in  which  at  one 
time  or  another  in  my  life  I  had  appeared  up  to  Decem 
ber  31,  1895. 

Let  it  be  understood  that  the  reason  I  mention  these 
things  is  that  students  who  intend  taking  up  an  artistic 
career  may  grasp  the  character  and  the  difficulties  of  the 
work  that  lies  before  them.  Those  content  to  do  a  few 
things  will  not  go  far  upon  the  way;  but  those  who  really 
have  ambition  and  a  will  to  study  will  find  their  work 
pleasurable,  of  course,  yet  anything  but  easy.  The 
loftiest  heights  and  rewards  are  attained  by  few  in  any 
walk  of  life,  and,  taking  one  consideration  with  another 
and  balancing  the  matter  sensibly,  it  will  be  found  that  the 
artistic  career  is  much  the  same  as  any  other  profession. 
It  may  be  said  of  it,  as  of  worldly  pleasure,  that  it  is  often 
of  short  duration  and  highly  overrated ;  so  we  must  begin 


176       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

betimes  and  work  intelligently.  We  can  not  reasonably 
expect  to  accomplish  anything  worth  while  unless  we 
work  con  amore.  We  must  strive  in  music  for  the  love 
of  music,  and  with  no  expectation  of  great  gain  until  we 
have  reached  the  point,  in  practice  and  in  authority, 
where  we  may  justly  demand  a  considerable  fee  for  what 
we  do.  Even  then  a  great  deal  has  to  be  learned  and 
performed  for  charity  or  by  way  of  education,  or  in  the 
necessary  pleasure  of  helping  others  to  achieve  the  suc 
cess  which  one  hopes  for  oneself.  Indeed,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  enthusiasm  I  felt  for  my  work  I  should  never 
have  been  asked  to  return  to  my  native  country,  there  to 
continue  the  artistic  journey  which  had  been  so  auspi 
ciously  begun  in  the  Old  World. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SWIMMING   WITH    THE   TIDE 

Progress  is  not  an  accident,  but  a  necessity.     It  is  a  part  of  nature. — 

Herbert  Spencer. 

THE  year  1896  opened  as  busily  as  its  predecessor  had 
closed,  and  I  found  myself  immersed  but  comfortably 
swimming  in  the  stream  of  art  in  which  I  had  already 
begun  to  support  myself  without  undue  effort,  though  ef 
fort  there  must  always  be.  But  I  was  going  with  the  tide 
and  not  against  it,  and  that  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
world. 

Another  of  my  own  London  concerts  took  place  in  the 
early  days  of  January,  when  the  program  was  devoted 
entirely  to  compositions  by  British  composers,  mostly  of 
that  day. 

Fond  as  I  was  of  the  classics  of  other  countries,  I  was 
keenly  alive  to  the  value  of  contemporaneous  English 
music.  Of  music  by  Americans  I  knew  but  little  as  yet, 
excepting  the  comparatively  few  songs  then  making  their 
way  in  London,  which  I  never  ceased  to  bring  before  the 
notice  of  the  public,  placing  the  works  of  my  countrymen 
upon  the  same  program  with  those  of  the  acknowledged 
masters  of  other  times  and  other  nations;  for  in  what 
way  better  than  by  contrast  can  one  judge  the  merit  of 
one's  fellows? 

It  was  my  pleasure  to  sing  on  more  than  one  occasion 
with  a  body  of  amateurs  called  the  Liverpool  Orchestral 
Society,  which  had  gradually  been  gathered  together  by 

177 


1 78       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

a  very  musicianly  cotton  factor  of  Liverpool,  one  of  the 
most  cultured  and  enthusiastic  amateurs  I  have  ever 
known.  He  had  rare  taste,  was  himself  no  mean  per 
former  upon  the  piano  and  violin,  and  ere  long  from  small 
beginnings  an  excellent  orchestra  was  formed  from  which 
the  best  members  were  graduated  into  the  Liverpool 
Philharmonic,  then  under  Richter.  Many  of  these  men 
are  alive  and  of  great  value  to  the  musical  growth  of  Eng 
land,  blessing  the  name  of  Alfred  Rodewald,  their  bene 
factor,  for  his  interest  in  them  and  their  beloved  art. 

It  is  easier  to  encourage  the  growth  of  orchestral  music 
in  this  manner  than  it  is  to  find  millionaires  willing  to  put 
their  hands  in  their  pockets  after  the  manner  of  Colonel 
Higginson  of  Boston,  to  support  what  is  nearly  always  a 
losing  venture.  As  it  is  with  music  so  it  is  with  the 
theatre ;  it  should  come  into  existence  after  its  own  fashion. 
For  few  indeed  and  far  between  are  those  who  can  say, 
"  Let  there  be,"  and  "  there  was."  Neither  of  these  arts 
has  of  its  own  accord  a  way  of  springing  "  full  panoplied 
from  the  front  of  Jove."  These  along  with  the  rest  of 
nature  must  follow  nature's  course.  The  seed  must  be 
planted  in  good  ground,  it  must  be  watered  and  nour 
ished,  it  must  be  helped  to  grow,  and  in  all  cases  fruition 
must  be  waited  for.  Sir  Henry  Irving  said  in  one  of  his 
addresses  at  Oxford  University,  "  The  stage,  to  succeed 
as  a  fine  art,  must  succeed  as  a  commercial  undertaking." 
And  neither  music  nor  the  drama  can  get  along  at  all  with 
out  enthusiasm  within  and  without. 

Many  concerts  followed  up  and  down  the  country  un 
der  excellent  circumstances  and  with  the  best  artists,  but 
at  a  concert  in  Southport  I  had  my  first  experience  of  the 
disrespect  shown  to  artists  by  persons  of  a  certain  stamp. 
During  the  afternoon  I  had  been  rehearsing  a  duet  with 


SWIMMING  WITH  THE  TIDE  179 

Miss  Clara  Butt  in  her  hotel  apartment  and  after  I  left 
she  went  on  practicing  for  that  evening.  Later  in  the 
reading  room  of  the  hotel  I  overheard  two  men  speaking 
with  a  broad  Lancashire  dialect.  "  I  say,  Harry,  did 
thou  hear  that  row  going  on  upstairs?"  "  Aye !  "  re 
plied  Harry;  "  I  heard  somebody  a-singing."  "Well," 
said  the  other,  "  she  were  in  the  room  next  to  mine  and 
I  beat  upon  the  door,  and  told  her  to  shut  up,  for  I  wanted 
to  take  a  nap."  "  Oh!  "  said  Harry  in  amazement,  "  did 
thou  know  who  that  were?  That  were  Clara  Butt!" 
"  Well!  "  said  the  other,  "  I  don't  care  who  it  were,  she'd 
no  business  to  be  shoutin'  and  'ollerin'  when  I  wanted  to 
go  to  sleep."  As  I  heard  the  man  speaking  I  thought, 
"  Alas!  for  the  chivalry  of  my  ancestral  county!  " 

Arthur  Chappell,  director  of  the  Saturday  and  Mon 
day  "  Pops  "  at  St.  James's  Hall,  continued  to  honor  me 
with  engagements  at  his  remarkable  offerings  of  classical 
music,  when  it  was  my  constant  endeavor  to  keep  the  vo 
cal  selections  up  to  the  mark  set  by  Joachim,  Lady  Halle, 
and  the  others  in  their  instrumental  numbers.  There  had 
been  much  comment  the  season  before  upon  the  inferior 
character  of  many  of  the  songs.  I,  therefore,  with  great 
interest  to  myself  and,  I  believe,  to  my  audiences,  though 
against  the  wish  of  Mr.  Chappell,  who,  strangely  enough, 
did  not  care  for  good  songs,  invariably  brought  forward 
certain  vocal  gems  such  as  are  to  be  found  in  great  num 
bers  by  whoever  cares  to  delve  even  but  a  short  way  be 
neath  the  surface.  Early  in  1896,  in  a  program  other 
wise  devoted  to  Beethoven's  instrumental  pieces,  I  re 
vived  that  master's  song  cycle,  "  To  the  Distant  Be 
loved."  Upon  previous  occasions  I  had  indulged  in  simi 
lar  revivals  of  almost  unknown  works  by  Schubert  and 
others.  But  public  opinion  is  hard  to  move  in  London, 


i8o       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

and  where  vocal  music  is  concerned,  a  more  obvious  form 
of  song  than  that  which  properly  consorts  with  classical 
instrumental  music  is  more  readily  appreciated,  even  by 
the  highly  cultured  musical  amateur.  On  the  contrary, 
the  prevailing  taste  for  choral  music  is  of  the  most  ad 
vanced  character  and  I  had  the  opportunity  of  singing 
within  a  few  days,  though  in  different  cities,  not  only 
Bach's  "  Passion  Music  according  to  St.  Matthew,"  but 
also  his  rarely  given  "  Passion  according  to  St.  John." 

With  the  early  spring  of  1896  there  began  at  Drury 
Lane  a  preliminary  season  of  grand  opera  in  English 
under  the  baton  of  Luigi  Mancinelli,  and  during  this 
season  I  sang  in  "  I  Pagliacci,"  wearing,  as  before,  even 
ing  clothes  while  rendering  the  prologue,  and  repeated 
Wolfram  and  Wotan,  adding  to  my  repertory  the  part 
of  Telramund  in  "  Lohengrin."  I  also  appeared  for  the 
second  time  at  the  London  Philharmonic  Society,  when 
I  gave  with  orchestra  Wagner's  seldom  heard  "  Les  deux 
Grenadiers  "  and  Mozart's  even  less  known  but  very  fine 
bass  aria  u  Per  questa  bella  mano." 

That  spring  in  London  I  gave  two  more  concerts  of 
my  own  before  the  grand  opera  season  began,  enlisting 
the  assistance  of  Piatti,  the  fine  'cellist,  Fanny  Davies,  the 
pianist,  and  Signorina  Landi,  the  Italian  alto,  with  Gabriel 
Faure,  the  French  song  writer.  But  what  stands  out 
more  particularly  in  my  mind  in  regard  to  that  occasion 
is,  that  I  was  further  assisted  by  an  old  friend  and  pre 
ceptor,  the  distinguished  actor,  Herman  Vezin,  whom  I 
had  requested  to  recite,  to  the  music  of  Schumann,  Heb- 
bel's  ballad  "  Fair  Hedwig  "  and  "  The  Fugitives  "  by 
Shelley. 

I  have  always  been  interested  in  recitations  to  music, 
and  though  some  of  these  pieces  are  undeniably  better 


SWIMMING  WITH  THE  TIDE  181 

than  others,  the  same  can  be  said  of  every  other  style  of 
composition,  vocal  or  instrumental.  Though  I  was  my 
self  not  yet  ready  to  adventure  upon  an  experiment  in 
which  I  subsequently  had  so  wide  an  experience,  I  was 
desirous  of  seeing  what  a  fine  actor  could  do  with  such 
pieces.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Vezin  was  not  a  musi 
cian  and  consequently  failed  to  produce  the  full  effect  I 
had  expected;  but  that  did  not  in  the  least  dash  my  enthu 
siasm  for  this  form  of  art,  nor  deter  me  later  from  ex 
perimenting  to  my  heart's  content. 

No  survey  of  London  concerts  however  brief  would  be 
complete  without  a  tribute  to  the  superb  musicianship  of 
that  great  pianist  and  distinguished  musician,  Mr.  Henry 
Bird,  who  has  so  often  been  a  very  present  help  to 
me  in  time  of  artistic  trouble,  and  upon  whom  I  always 
relied  for  his  masterly  handling  of  the  piano  at  my  own 
recitals.  His  ability  was  such  that  he  became  an  insti 
tution,  and  much  of  my  success  is  due  to  his  cooperation. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  me  to  glance  over  my  collection 
of  hundreds  of  programs  at  this  time  of  my  career,  and 
to  note  how,  in  the  short  period  of  less  than  four  years 
since  my  appearance  as  a  mere  tyro  at  Covent  Garden, 
my  artistic  stature  had  grown.  It  may  have  been,  and 
probably  was,  that  I  just  happened  to  come  in  time  to  fill 
a  niche  that  was  temporarily  vacant  in  English  musical 
life;  but  sure  it  is  that  I  neglected  nothing  that  presented 
itself,  and  had  my  hands  full  in  doing  what  came  to  me 
to  the  best  of  my  ability. 

The  season  of  grand  opera  that  began  in  June  at  Co- 
vent  Garden  enlisted  the  usual  number  of  vocal  celebrities 
from  all  parts  of  Europe  and  America,  and  it  fell  to  my 
lot  to  sing  twenty-five  times  beginning  with  Humper- 
dinck's  "  Hansel  and  Gretel,"  in  which  Peter,  the  father. 


182       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

was  assigned  to  me,  to  my  great  delight,  for  any  one  with 
a  sense  of  humor  must  revel  in  such  a  "  fat  "  part.  Then 
followed  Lord  Allcash  in  "  Fra  Diavolo  "  and  our  per 
formances  of  "  The  Mastersingers  "  attracted  renewed 
attention. 

In  the  performances  of  "  Lohengrin "  that  year  at 
Covent  Garden  we  began  first  to  sing  Wagner  in  German. 
Jean  and  Edouard  de  Reszke,  both  Poles,  accustomed  to 
Italian  or  French,  Madame  Albani,  a  French  Canadian, 
as  Elsa,  and  myself,  an  American,  as  Telramund,  all 
singing  in  German;  Fraulein  Meisslinger,  the  only  Ger 
man  of  the  cast,  sang  Ortrud,  and  extremely  well  she  did 
it. 

It  was  at  the  dress  rehearsal  for  our  first  performance 
of  "  Lohengrin  "  that  I  suggested  to  Jean  de  Reszke  that 
our  contest  should  look  more  like  a  fight,  and  less  of  a 
foregone  conclusion  for  the  divinely  endowed  Knight  of 
the  Swan.  He  readily  fell  in  with  my  wishes  and  from 
that  time  on  there  was  given  —  what  was  in  my  experi 
ence  lacking  in  all  previous  performances  —  a  significant 
reason  for  the  overthrow  of  the  malevolent  Telramund. 
This  is  a  character  which,  by  the  way,  I  invariably  associ 
ate  with  Macbeth,  for  he  is  as  certainly  under  the  domina 
tion  of  a  strong  and  evil-minded  woman  as  ever  Macbeth 
was,  and  each  is  ready  to  commit  any  deed  at  the  behest 
of  the  more  powerful  will. 

That  season  Jean  de  Reszke  assumed  for  the  first 
time  the  part,  perhaps  his  greatest,  of  Tristan,  with  his 
brother  Edouard  as  the  King;  and  with  Madame  Albani 
as  Isolde.  I  once  more  assumed,  as  I  was  to  do  many 
times  thereafter,  my  beloved  part  of  the  faithful,  dog-like 
Kurwenal. 

In  the  preparation  of  this  opera  I  suggested  again  that 


SWIMMING  WITH  THE  TIDE  183 

some  reasonable  pretext  should  be  afforded  for  Kur- 
wenal's  death.  The  management  of  the  fight  at  the 
castle  gate  was  turned  over  to  me,  and  I  instructed  two 
of  the  supernumeraries  to  work  their  way  around  behind 
me,  and  as  I  was  engaged  in  defending  my  master,  to 
stab  me  in  the  back  with  their  spears.  This  was  done 
and,  as  Quince  says,  I  "  died  most  gallant  for  love."  In 
doing  so  I  almost  caused  the  death  of  one  of  my  oppo 
nents  in  the  chorus.  Though  the  action  was  clearly  un 
derstood,  in  the  excitement  of  a  rehearsal  he  unexpect 
edly  lowered  the  shield  upon  which  my  heavy  blow  aimed 
at  his  head  was  to  have  fallen,  and  he  felt  the  full  power 
of  my  strong  right  arm  as  my  weighty  sword,  no  stage 
makeshift  on  this  occasion,  cut  deep  into  his  cheek  bone. 
There  was  almost  a  riot  among  the  chorus  and  supers, 
but  it  was  soon  realized  —  and  no  one  realized  any  more 
quickly  than  the  injured  man  himself  —  that  he  alone 
was  to  blame  for  the  accident.  I  saw  that  his  wound 
received  careful  attention  and  the  distribution  of  a  little 
pourbolre  at  the  luncheon  interval  helped  to  calm  the 
indignant  multitude;  but  though  the  fight  always  went 
very  well  in  subsequent  performances,  I  managed  to  die 
thereafter  without  bringing  any  one  else  down  with  me. 

In  the  revival  of  "  Les  Huguenots "  that  season 
Madame  Melba  sang  the  part  of  Marguerite  de  Valois, 
and  Madame  Albani  was  truly  superb  as  Valentina. 
She  sang  it  as  well  as  any  one  in  Europe,  and  in  such  a 
part  was  more  at  home  than  as  Isolde  which  she  had  but 
recently  studied.  Among  the  men  there  was  a  shifting 
of  parts.  My  former  rok4  of  de  Nevers  was  sung  by 
Ancona,  while  I  assumed  the  part  of  San  Bris,  and  Pol 
Plancon  took  the  grateful  part  of  Marcello. 

This  great  basso,  though  he  had  sung  in  London  for 


1 84       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

many  seasons  and  continued  to  be  a  favorite  both  there 
and  in  America,  never  accomplished  anything  in  the  Eng 
lish  language  beyond  the  few  words  that  sufficed  to  pro 
cure  the  necessities  of  life. 

Looking  over  my  programs,  it  is  amusing  to  recall  the 
State  Concert  that  year  at  Buckingham  Palace,  when 
Madame  Eames,  an  American,  sang  in  French;  I  sang 
in  Italian;  Madame  Mantelli,  an  Italian,  sang  in  French; 
Alvarez,  a  Spaniard,  sang  a  German  love  song  in  French ; 
while  at  the  request  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Plangon, 
Frenchman,  sang  "  The  Lost  Chord  "  in  English. 

This  was  written  down  for  him  so  that  he  could  sing 
the  equivalent  syllables,  which  meant  less  than  nothing, 
from  an  amazing  page  of  script  that  would  have  puzzled 
the  most  accomplished  comparative  philologist.  The 
Prince,  who  had  seen  the  words  as  transcribed,  went  into 
convulsions  of  laughter  behind  his  program,  while  the 
whole  Court  wondered  what  was  provoking  such  royal 
mirth.  It  was  this: 

Si-ted  ouan  dei  at  dhi  or-ganne 

Ai  ouaz  oui-ri  an  dil  ah  tiz 
Ahnd  mai  fin-gerz  ouann-der  daid-li 

O-vaire  dhi  no-izi  kiz,  etc.,  etc., 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MY   AIN    COUNTRIE 

God  sent  His  singers  upon  earth 
With  songs  of  sadness  and  of  mirth. 

—  Longfellow. 

IN  the  autumn  of  1896  with  a  light  heart  I  gave  my 
farewell  London  concert  for  that  season  at  St.  James's 
Hall  and  before  long  found  myself  on  my  way  to  my 
native  land,  filled  with  artistic  hope  and  an  enthusiasm 
which  had  never  forsaken  me.  It  was  the  tenth  time 
that  I  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  frequently  in 
storms  or  disagreeable  weather,  but  upon  this  occasion 
everything  was  bright,  and  the  sea  almost  as  calm  as  a 
millpond  from  shore  to  shore.  As  I  stood  in  the  prow 
of  the  vessel  one  day  alone,  trying  to  peer  beyond  the 
rounded  edge  of  the  world,  my  imagination  outran  the 
swiftly  moving  ship  and  I  seemed  to  see  the  vast  expanse 
of  North  America  and  to  realize  in  some  measure  for 
the  first  time  the  responsibility  before  me. 

I  was  then  the  only  American  man  singing  upon  the 
stage  of  either  continent  in  grand  opera.  I  felt  that  my 
position  was  unique  and  must  be  upheld  as  worthily  as 
lay  in  my  power.  And  I  earnestly  hoped  that  I  might 
be  enabled  to  maintain  my  standing  with  dignity,  what 
ever  I  did,  and  to  be  the  influence  for  good  in  American 
musical  art  that  my  mother  would  have  wished  had  she 
been  alive  to  greet  me. 

I  owe  it,  I  am  sure,  to  Jean  de  Reszke,  who  always  took 

185 


1 86       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

an  interest  in  my  work  and  for  whom  I  felt  the  warmest 
friendship,  that  Maurice  Grau,  who  for  some  time  had 
been  directing  the  fortunes  of  the  Covent  Garden  Opera 
after  the  death  of  Sir  Augustus  Harris,  invited  me  to  go 
to  America  to  become  a  member  of  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  Company  in  New  York,  where  all  my  confreres 
had  for  at  least  two  years  before  been  delighting  the 
public.  At  last  I  had  sufficiently  made  myself  one  of 
them,  artistically  speaking,  to  be  considered  able  to  hold 
my  own  on  the  operatic  boards  of  fastidious  New  York. 
In  making  my  contract  with  Mr.  Grau,  I  naturally 
tried  to  do  as  well  for  myself  as  possible,  for  I  may  say 
that  by  this  time  my  earning  capacity  had  advanced  to 
considerably  more  than  the  small  sum  I  had  received  in 
my  uncle's  office  at  home.  Grau  was  a  close  calculator, 
but  an  agreement  once  made  he  stuck  to  it  whatever  it 
was,  but  would  do  no  more  than  he  had  undertaken  to  do 
in  writing.  It  was  said  of  him  that  though  he  would  give 
a  man  a  fine  cigar,  he  would  not  offer  him  a  match  to 
light  it  with  unless  such  generosity  had  been  nominated 
in  the  bond.  But,  as  I  was  holding  out  for  an  emolument 
greater  than  that  which  he  had  suggested,  I  gained  my 
point  in  a  way  that  I  had  not  looked  for.  Though  Grau 
was  willing  that  I  should  take  as  many  concerts  as  I 
could  fit  in  between  the  operas  which  he  guaranteed  me, 
he  was  inclined  to  be  rather  close  as  to  my  salary  until 
I  urged  the  extent  and  variety  of  my  repertory  and  my 
willingness  to  appear  frequently,  and  often  unexpectedly. 
He  suddenly  turned  to  me  and  said:  "  Very  well,  let  it 
be  as  you  say.  I  will  give  you  what  you  ask,  for  in  all 
my  experience  as  a  manager  I  have  never  had  an  artist 
so  reliable  as  yourself.  I  wish  you  every  good  fortune 
in  your  native  country  and  I  predict  success  for  you. 


MY  AIN  COUNTRIE  187 

You  will  open  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  New 
York,  November  18,  as  Beckmesser  in  '  Die  Meister- 
singer,'  with  the  de  Reszkes,  Mr.  Plangon,  and  Ma 
dame  Eames." 

The  New  York  season  of  the  autumn  of  1896  opened 
in  a  blaze  of  glory,  with  Mesdames  Calve,  Melba,  Eames, 
and  Litvinne,  all  in  the  fullness  of  their  powers,  head 
ing  the  sopranos,  while  Madame  Mantelli  and  Rosa 
Olitzka  led  the  altos.  Jean  de  Reszke,  in  the  height  of 
his  fame,  set  a  noble  pace  for  the  other  tenors,  Salignac 
and  Cremonini.  Ancona,  Campanari,  Lassalfe,  and  my 
self  were  among  the  barytones,  while  Edouard  de 
Reszke,  Plangon,  and  Castelmary  formed  a  basic  founda 
tion  strong  enough  to  uphold  any  artistic  superstructure. 

This  galaxy  of  stars  performed  that  season  a  repertory 
of  twenty-four  operas  as  follows:  "  Romeo  and  Juliet," 
"Faust,"  ''Philemon  and  Baucis,"  "Carmen,"  "  Le 
Cid,"  "  Cavalleria  Rusticana,"  "  Les  Huguenots," 
"  L'Africaine,"  "  Don  Giovanni,"  "  The  Marriage  of 
Figaro,"  "  La  Traviata,"  "  II  Trovatore,"  "  Rigoletto," 
"  ATda,"  "  Lucia,"  "  Hamlet,"  "  Mefistofele,"  and 
"  Werther,"  Wagner  being  represented  by  "  Tann- 
hauser,"  "Lohengrin,"  "Siegfried,"  "Tristan  und 
Isolde,"  and  "  Die  Meistersinger."  The  German 
operas  were  conducted  by  Anton  Seidl;  Mancinelli  and 
Bevignani  accounted  for  the  rest  of  the  repertory. 

It  is  useless  to  institute  comparisons  between  the  casts 
of  those  times  and  casts  of  the  present  day;  it  is  sufficient 
to  say,  however,  that  the  aggregation  of  artists  gathered 
together  that  season  by  Grau,  which  with  some  changes 
for  the  better  remained  with  him  for  several  years,  was 
perhaps  the  most  remarkable  selection  of  singers  that  the 
world  has  ever  heard.  It  is  amusing,  when  turning  over 


1 88       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

my  programs,  to  note  that  "  The  Mastersingers  "  was 
given  with  a  cast  comprising  one  Russian,  two  Germans, 
two  Poles,  three  Americans,  four  Frenchmen,  and  five 
Italians.  This  German  opera,  conducted  by  an  Italian, 
was  sung  in  Italian  before  an  English-speaking  audience. 
It  was  not  long,  however,  before  "  The  Mastersingers  " 
fell  into  line  in  German  with  the  other  Wagnerian  operas 
we  performed.  It  sometimes  happens  that  with  such  a 
polyglot  cast,  in  which  every  singer  knows  the  music  but 
has  the  words  in  his  native  tongue  only,  the  audience  will 
be  treated  to  Italian,  French,  and  German  in  alternation, 
from  the  lips  of  representatives  of  as  many  as  six  nation 
alities. 

Among  the  prima  donnas  of  that  time  the  beautiful 
Americans,  Lillian  Nordica  and  Emma  Eames,  reigned 
supreme.  Madame  Nordica  was  married  to  a  Hun 
garian  singer,  who  considered  himself  engaged  to  the 
prima  donna  before  she  had  left  for  America  the  previ 
ous  year.  It  is  said  he  was  kept  aware  of  her  movements 
in  America  by  her  maid,  who  before  long  informed  him 
that  attentions  were  being  paid  to  her  by  another.  He 
thereupon  set  sail  for  New  York,  and  on  his  arrival  made 
his  way  to  Nordica's  hotel.  Upon  being  announced  and 
received  by  the  beautiful  artist,  he,  so  the  story  goes, 
drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and  threatened  to  shoot 
her  then  and  there  unless  she  married  him  immediately. 
Influenced  both  by  awe  and  admiration  of  so  doughty  a 
lover,  the  fair  Lillian  went  with  him  to  a  clergyman 
near  by  who  married  them,  the  clergyman's  wife  being  the 
witness.  She  later  averred  that  the  soprano  was  in  such 
a  torrent  of  tears  that  she  could  not  answer  the  ques 
tions  put  by  the  clergyman  during  the  wedding  ceremony; 
while  the  bridegroom,  with  flashing  eyes  and  mustache 


MY  AIN  COUNTRIE  189 

on  end,  commanded  the  minister,  "  Go  on !  Prima 
donnas  always  behave  this  way  when  they  are  getting 
married." 

Although  Lillian  Nordica  learned  her  roles  with  dif 
ficulty,  she  had  the  determination  which  carried  her  to 
such  artistic  heights  that  she  will  never  be  forgotten  in 
musical  annals.  Her  grit,  reenforced  by  her  beauty  and 
her  lovely  voice,  enabled  her  to  do  an  amount  of  work 
which  is  truly  astonishing.  She  was  a  worthy  model  for 
younger  artists,  any  one  of  whom  would  do  well  to  walk 
in  her  way. 

French  and  Italian  held  sway  as  formerly,  and  under 
Mr.  Grau  English  was  seldom  used  during  his  regime. 
He  was  not  particularly  musical,  and  did  not  believe  that 
anything  but  light  opera  or  oratorio,  in  which  he  was  not 
interested,  could  be  sung  in  English.  He  also  confessed 
to  me  that,  if  he  had  his  way,  he  would  never  have  any 
advanced  Wagnerian  music  at  all  in  his  repertory. 
"  Still,"  as  he  said,  "  the  public  seem  to  like  it  —  I  don't 
know  why;  but  if  they  want  it,  it  is  my  business  to  give  it 
to  them." 

I  had  made  arrangements  with  a  concert  manager  to 
provide  for  me  as  many  engagements  as  possible  outside 
of  my  operatic  work,  and  soon  after  my  initial  perform 
ance  in  New  York,  inaugurated  a  series  of  concerts  in 
America  that  probably  has  few  equals  in  the  history  of 
the  profession.  If  the  work  of  a  busy  singer  is  hard,  it 
certainly  is  agreeable,  and  the  successful  artist  has  noth 
ing  whatever  to  complain  of  either  in  appreciation  or  in 
material  gain,  be  the  work  ever  so  arduous. 

As  a  matter  of  record,  however,  it  may  be  of  interest 
to  the  student  to  know  that  I  appeared  during  the  season 
of  1896-97  in  America,  before  returning  to  Europe, 


A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

eighty-three  times;  thirty-four  of  them  in  seven  operas, 
two  of  the  roles  being  new  in  my  repertory. 

In  concerts  I  sang  forty-nine  times  in  seventeen  cities, 
introducing  at  several  of  these  for  the  first  time  in 
America,  not  only  Brahms's  "  Magelone,"  but  the  same 
composer's  latest  work,  the  "  Four  Serious  Songs,"  which 
I  had  given  in  London  the  previous  season  almost  im 
mediately  after  Brahms  had  issued  them. 

It  was  doubtless  through  my  association  with  Anton 
Seidl,  as  conductor  at  the  Metropolitan  opera,  that  I 
was  engaged  by  the  Philharmonic  Society,  which  he  also 
directed.  Seidl  was  always  friendly  to  me,  seemed  to 
take  special  interest  in  my  work,  and  suggested  that  on 
the  occasion  of  my  first  appearance  at  these  concerts  I 
should  perform  with  Madame  Clementine  de  Vere  the 
duet  from  the  second  act  of  "  The  Flying  Dutchman." 
At  my  second  Philharmonic  appearance,  later  in  the  sea 
son,  I  decided  upon  selecting  two  groups  of  Schubert's 
songs.  Seidl  later  showed  me  his  orchestral  accompani 
ments  to  certain  of  the  ballads  of  Loewe,  and  asked  me  to 
sing  some  of  these  at  one  of  his  Sunday  night  concerts  at 
the  Metropolitan  Opera  House.  He  was  a  great  enthu 
siast,  and  I  am  proud  to  have  come  into  as  close  touch 
with  Richard  Wagner  himself  as  I  did,  through  the  ar 
tistic  friendship  of  and  much  work  with  his  two  faithful 
disciples,  Anton  Seidl  and  Hans  Richter.  They  handed 
on  the  brightly  burning  torch  lit  at  the  shrine  of  the  great 
master  whose  works  and  methods  they  understood  better 
than  any  one  else  —  even  than  Cosima  Wagner  herself, 
who  never  ceased  to  inject  her  own  ideas  into  the  repre 
sentation  of  her  great  husband's  operas,  which  took  place 
under  her  direction  after  his  death,  until  Bayreuth  became 


MY  AIN  COUNTRIE  191 

nothing  less  than  a  hotbed  of  jealousy,  dissension  and 
musical  politics. 

I  have  been  informed  by  a  well-known  soprano  that 
toward  the  end  of  her  engagement  at  the  Bavarian  shrine, 
things  became  so  disagreeable  that  she,  like  Lilli  Leh- 
mann,  Madame  Materna,  and  various  other  shining  lights 
before  her,  was  constrained  never  to  appear  there  again, 
as  the  honor  was  by  no  means  commensurate  with  the 
mental  and  spiritual  discomfort,  not  to  speak  of  the  artis 
tic  belittlement  to  which  well-known  singers  were  sub 
jected.  In  the  case  referred  to  the  artiste  was  obliged 
to  take  orders  from  Cosima's  daughter's  maid,  who  at 
tempted  to  instruct  the  experienced  singer  in  the  manner 
of  wearing  her  garments  and  walking  upon  the  stage, 
with  the  result  that  the  sopra'no  complained  to  the 
fountainhead,  informing  Madame  Wagner  in  no  uncer 
tain  terms  that,  while  she  was  proud  to  obey  her,  she 
could  not  delegate  this  power  to  her  daughters,  much 
less  to  the  servants  of  her  daughters. 

Singing  under  Seidl  and  Richter,  no  one  was  subjected 
to  any  supercilious  treatment.  These  great  men  knew 
exactly  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  music,  and  every  one 
associated  with  them  knew  that  they  knew,  and  ac 
cepted  their  readings  and  interpretations  as  authoritative 
beyond  question. 

It  was  during  the  last  days  of  1896  that  the  brothers 
de  Reszke  made  their  first  appearance  as  Siegfried  and 
The  Wanderer  respectively.  The  occasion  was  made 
trebly  interesting  by  the  appearance  of  Madame  Melba 
as  Briinnhilde.  It  was  also  Madame  Melba's  first  ap 
pearance  in  German  opera,  and  I  well  remember  wishing 
her  luck  when,  having  finished  my  part  as  Hunding  in 


192       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  second  act,  I  found  her  upon  the  stage  with  Jean  de 
Reszke,  who  was  assisting  her  to  the  rocky  couch  beneath 
the  great  tree,  where  presently  the  audience  was  to  see 
her  surrounded  by  the  flames  which  Wotan  called  forth 
at  the  conclusion  of  "  The  Valkyrie,"  and  in  the  sleep 
from  which  Siegfried  was  presently  to  awaken  her.  I 
took  my  place  in  a  box  to  witness  the  remainder  of  the 
performance.  Melba  was  extremely  nervous,  not  only 
because  she  was  singing  in  a  language  to  which  she  was 
unaccustomed,  but  in  a  part  which  was  entirely  unsuited 
to  her,  and  which,  though  she  knew  it  perfectly,  she  was 
ill-advised  to  have  assumed  at  all. 

In  this  act  Melba,  accustomed  to  the  older  repertory, 
was  apparently  forgetful  of  the  Wagnerian  tradition  to 
remain  well  within  the  scene,  and  Jean  de  Reszke,  in  the 
heavy  fur  coat  of  Siegfried,  was  kept  busy  patrolling  the 
forward  part  of  the  stage  to  keep  the  white-clad  Melba 
from  rushing  into  the  footlights,  over  which  she  had  so 
many  times  sung  to  delighted  audiences.  Unfortunately 
for  the  celebrated  and  gifted  prima  donna  the  task  she 
had  here  set  herself  was  too  much  for  her  vocal  powers 
and  she  sang  but  little  in  the  subsequent  performances  of 
the  season. 

As  the  act  progressed  my  mind  was  carried  forcibly 
back  to  a  scene  that  had  greatly  impresed  me  in  boyhood. 
I  had  been  to  a  fire  at  night  in  which  an  enormous  barn 
and  stable  connected  with  a  stock  farm  were  completely 
destroyed.  Many  cattle  which  had  been  driven  into 
adjacent  fields  were  so  attracted  by  the  flames  that  a  con 
siderable  force  of  men  was  kept  busy  preventing  the 
animals  from  rushing  headlong  to  death.  Near  where  I 
stood  in  the  night  a  white  calf  in  great  excitement  was 


MY  AIN  COUNTRIE  193 

trying  to  make  its  way  toward  the  fire,  but  the  field  be 
tween  the  young  animal  and  the  conflagration  was  in  this 
instance  patrolled  by  the  mother  cow,  whose  maternal 
instinct  was  superior  to  the  call  of  the  light. 

Illustrative  of  the  vagaries  of  artists,  I  recall  a  Sunday 
night  concert  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  when 
Calve  was  on  the  bill  with  Plangon,  myself,  and  others. 
Opera  singers  are  often  not  accustomed  to  concerts.  Bare 
boards  without  scenery;  musicians  on  the  stage  instead  of 
in  the  orchestra  pit;  waiting  through  a  disjointed  col 
lection  of  instrumental  and  vocal  numbers  until  one  has 
to  appear  on  the  platform  without  that  make-up  which 
is  such  a  disguise  and  inside  of  which  one  feels  so  much 
at  home  —  such  things  as  these  often  tend  to  make  the 
opera  singer  extremely  nervous.  Upon  the  occasion  I 
refer  to,  Madame  Mantelli  was  calm,  as  indeed  altos 
usually  are;  the  tenor  Cremonini  was  moderately  excited, 
but  Plancon  was  weeping  violently,  mopping  from  his 
cheeks  and  beard  the  tears  that  continued  to  flow  until  the 
moment  for  him  to  walk  upon  the  platform;  when,  hav 
ing  given  vent  to  his  emotions  in  song,  he  quieted  down 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  I  myself  was  somewhat  up 
set  by  these  manifestations  of  the  idiosyncrasies  of  vocal 
ists,  especially  when  Madame  Calve  demanded  that  the 
orchestral  accompaniment  to  her  piece  be  transposed  into 
a  key  that  was  uncomfortable  to  the  players  as  well  as 
for  her  voice.  Later  she  had  such  a  quarrel  with  Al 
varez,  the  tenor,  that  as  they  performed  in  "  Carmen  " 
together  I  was  much  relieved  to  find  that  Alvarez  had 
not  planted  his  dagger  between  her  shoulder  blades  as  he 
seemed  to  do,  almost  pinning  her  with  his  knife  against 
the  door  of  the  bull  ring.  But  the  curtain  went  up  at 


194       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  end  of  the  performance  upon  Calve,  smiling  and 
beautiful  as  usual,  while  she  and  the  tenor  in  all  his  glory 
took  the  rapturous  curtain  call. 

That  spring  I  visited  Chicago  several  times,  not  only 
with  the  opera  but  for  concert  engagements.  It  hap 
pened  that  at  this  time  Henry  Irving  and  Ellen  Terry 
were  acting  in  the  windy  city.  I  found  myself  staying 
in  the  same  hotel  and  on  the  same  floor  with  Miss  Terry, 
whom  I  had  known  in  London  for  a  number  of  years. 
Hearing  me  singing,  she  sent  word  by  her  attendant  to 
ask  if  I  would  not  do  her  the  pleasure  of  rehearsing  in 
her  sitting-room.  She  wished  to  hear  the  music  of  which 
she  was  so  fond,  but  of  which  naturally  enough  she  could 
get  but  little,  as  she  was  constantly  working  and  unable 
to  attend  concerts. 

I  was  glad  to  do  as  the  celebrated  actress  requested, 
and,  though  she  remained  much  of  the  time  in  another 
room,  she  could  hear  everything  that  went  on  through 
the  open  door  while  I  rendered  several  selections  from 
my  forthcoming  concert.  Presently  Miss  Terry  entered 
the  room  and  sat  down  quietly  to  listen.  At  the  conclu 
sion  of  the  songs,  she  said:  "  I  like  some  of  those  things 
very  much,  but  what  were  those  wonderful  songs  you 
sang  half  an  hour  ago?  I  could  catch  words  from  the 
Bible,  and  they  sounded  like  the  grandest  sermon  I  ever 
heard  in  my  life."  I  took  from  the  piano  the  "  Four 
Serious  Songs "  by  Brahms,  which  she  looked  at  and 
handled  with  a  reverence  that  shed  new  light  upon  the 
character  of  this  brilliant  creature,  whom  I  had  already 
seen  and  admired  in  most  of  her  repertory.  I  had  fre 
quently  met  her  in  private,  but  here  she  was  at  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  fresh  and  alert  as  always,  clad  in 
a  comfortable  dressing  gown  and  slippers,  looking  like 


MY  AIN  COUNTRIE 


195 


the  mother  of  all  the  characters  in  which  I  had  seen  her 
upon  the  stage. 

Earnestly  she  requested  me  to  preach  her  that  sermon 
over  again.  "  Now,"  she  said,  "  I  am  your  congrega 
tion  and  will  sit  under  you  to  listen  to  the  truth,  for  I 
am  persuaded  that  music  is  a  part  of  the  voice  of  the 
Almighty." 

Though  Brahms  was  not  essentially  dramatic  in  his 
style  and  never  composed  an  opera,  yet  he  gave  out  in 
this  swan  song  something  of  the  poignancy  of  the  emo 
tions  which  he  felt,  but  which  he  so  often  elected  to  con 
ceal  from  the  world. 

Never  have  I  sung  more  feelingly  to  the  largest  of 
audiences  than  I  did  that  morning  to  my  audience  of  one. 
Carried  away  by  the  situation  as  I  stood  behind  the  back 
of  a  chair,  I  found  myself  actually  using  such  gestures  as 
an  earnest  clergyman  might  use,  as  he  expounded  to  his 
congregation  the  Word  of  the  Lord.  As  I  finished,  the 
tears  that  coursed  down  Miss  Terry's  cheeks  were  the 
most  graceful  tribute  I  had  ever  received,  and  yet  the 
tribute  was  not  to  me,  for  I  was  merely  the  mouthpiece, 
the  interpreter,  of  noble  music  wedded  to  words  of  power. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

FORTUNE    GOOD   AND   ILL 

Take  all  that  comes,  the  hard  goes  with  the  soft; 
All  are  from  God  and  His  decrees  fulfill 

—  From  the  Arabic. 

IN  the  classic  auditorium  of  the  Academy  of  Music 
in  Philadelphia,  assisted  by  my  friends,  the  gentlemen  of 
my  beloved  Orpheus  Club,  I  gave  early  in  the  season  one 
of  my  own  concerts.  No  more  loyal  body  of  men  ever 
supported  an  artist  in  his  native  city,  after  what  they  were 
pleased  to  call  my  triumph  abroad,  than  this  body  of  en 
thusiasts,  who  made  me  feel  that  the  old  saying,  "  A 
prophet  is  not  without  honor,  save  in  his  own  country," 
was  completely  disproved.  No  one  could  have  been 
more  highly  complimented  than  I  was  when  they  made  me 
an  honorary  member  of  their  society,  and  I  almost  came 
to  believe  that  the  world  was  assuming  a  fresh  outlook  on 
things,  by  which  musical  people  would  forego  all  symp 
toms  of  jealousy. 

Perhaps  the  reason  is  to  be  found  in  the  attitude  of 
such  societies  of  amateurs  as  the  Orpheus  Club,  which  in 
their  intimate  associations  are  on  the  plane  of  the  dilet 
tante,  even  though  some  of  their  members  may  be  pro 
fessionals,  and  do  not  allow  any  spirit  of  envy  to  enter 
the  realm  of  art.  The  spirit  of  the  amateur,  the  true 
lover  of  music,  reigns  supreme.  I  can  truthfully  say 
that  when  I  myself  was  an  amateur,  I  looked  forward 
through  each  recurrent  week  to  the  Monday  night  re 
hearsal  of  this  club  with  a  delightful  anticipation  of  the 

196 


FORTUNE  GOOD  AND  ILL  197 

work  which  nothing  else  has  ever  given  me.  True  com 
radeship  is  incited  by  song,  a  oneness  of  heart  and  of 
purpose  seldom  aroused  by  other  occupations.  I  hope 
such  bodies  may  spring  up  everywhere  throughout  the 
United  States,  each  to  become  a  nucleus  around  which  a 
more  extended  musical  life  may  grow.  Orchestras  may 
well  be  founded  in  the  same  way  from  small  beginnings, 
and  thus  may  native  talent,  both  vocal  and  instrumental, 
be  cultivated  to  the  great  advantage  of  every  community. 
Early  in  January,  1897,  I  gave  at  the  Carnegie  Lyceum, 
the  cozy  little  auditorium  in  the  basement  of  Carnegie 
Hall,  the  first  of  my  New  York  concerts,  assisted  by 
Miss  Marguerite  Hall  and  Mr.  Gregorowitsch,  the  Rus 
sian  violinist.  Upon  that  occasion,  besides  examples 
from  the  older  classics,  and  the  "  Four  Serious  Songs  " 
by  Brahms,  I  gave  a  group  consisting  of  six  songs  by 
living  American  composers :  Dudley  Buck,  Henry  Had- 
ley,  Reginald  de  Koven,  Arthur  Foote,  H.  H.  Wetzler, 
and  George  W.  Chadwick.  Ever  since  that  time  I  have 
endeavored  to  keep  before  the  American  public  the 
work  of  its  own  gifted  men.  I  was  and  am  still  well 
aware  of  the  all  but  universal  tendency  to  consider  the 
work  of  any  foreigner  superior  to  that  of  our  own  people, 
but  I  have  never  held  with  that  view,  insisting  that  much 
foreign  music  is  quite  as  bad  as  any  that  could  possibly 
be  produced  in  America.  Though  naturally  enough  the 
best  is  always  sought  for,  yet  many  are  the  mistakes 
which  have  been  made  in  the  concert  room  and  at  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House  in  bringing  forward  compo-* 
sitions  by  foreigners,  while  well  considered  and  carefully 
prepared  material  by  our  own  native  musicians  has  been 
deliberately  put  aside,  or  when  performed  has  met  with 
scant  courtesy  at  the  hands  of  press  and  public. 


198       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

This  attitude  on  the  part  of  Americans  is  one  that  has 
puzzled  me  considerably.  In  the  intimate  social  circles 
which  supported  imported  art  there  were  few  with  the 
courage  to  proclaim  America  and  Americanism  as  Walt 
Whitman  proclaimed  it  two  generations  ago,  and  the 
grand  substratum  of  Europeanism  remained.  Most 
American  men  of  leisure  wanted  to  take  their  holiday  in 
Europe,  and  American  women  knew  that  when  they  died 
they  would  go  to  Paris. 

I  gave  that  season  three  concerts  of  my  own  in  New 
York,  still  assisted  as  in  London  by  other  artists.  The 
brilliantly  gifted  Madame  Corinne  Moore  Lawson,  Miss 
Lillian  Blauvelt,  and  the  Kneisel  Quartette  added  a  dis 
tinction  to  my  programs  which  otherwise  might  have  been 
lacking.  I  was  rapidly  finding  sufficient  artistic  poise  for 
recitals  alone,  and  before  long  I  was  able  to  dispense 
with  any  assistance  but  that  of  my  own  accompanist. 

At  first,  not  finding  any  one  able  to  place  himself  en 
tirely  at  my  disposal,  I  was  constrained  to  accept  the 
services  of  pianists  who,  however  talented,  were  unac 
customed  to  me  and  my  ways.  Let  me  say  here,  for  the 
benefit  of  my  successors,  that  it  is  obvious  that  the  artist 
should  not  be  obliged  to  fatigue  himself  with  rehearsals 
just  before  the  concert  of  which  he  is  to  bear  the  brunt. 
It  will  be  found  in  the  long  run  far  better  to  undertake 
the  expense  of  a  permanent  accompanist  than  to  run  the 
risk  of  a  bad  one  or  the  nervousness  of  singing  for  the 
first  time  with  any  one,  no  matter  how  good. 

Once,  when  I  had  been  careful  to  send  my  music  ahead 
to  the  pianist  who  had  been  selected  for  me  and  whose 
ability  was  vouched  for  by  one  whom  I  considered  com 
petent  to  judge,  I  found  the  clever  young  instrumentalist 
in  such  a  state  of  alarm  at  the  prospect  of  playing  for 


FORTUNE  GOOD  AND  ILL  199 

me  that,  for  all  his  ability,  my  concert  was  nearly  ruined; 
certain  pieces  he  was  unable  to  cope  with  at  all,  and  in 
their  places  others  had  to  be  substituted  at  the  last 
moment. 

Sometime  before  starting  from  London  for  New 
York,  I  had  been  asked  by  a  friend  to  hunt  up  a  brilliant 
musician  named  Blank,  whose  address  was  not  given  me. 
Upon  reaching  New  York  I  inquired  for  him  without 
avail.  Later  in  the  season,  after  returning  from  an  op 
eratic  performance  to  the  St.  Botolph  Club  in  Boston 
where  I  was  staying,  I  sat  at  supper  with  two  men  who 
were  quietly  conversing  as  I  read  my  letters.  One  of 
these  was  from  my  friend  who,  having  learned  Mr. 
Blank's  address,  sent  it  on  to  me.  As  I  read  the  words, 
"  Henry  Blank  can  be  found  at  such  and  such  a  place," 
I  became  aware  that  my  two  friends  were  speaking  of 
Henry  Blank.  Hearing  them  I  asked,  "  Whose  name 
was  that?"  They  replied,  "  Henry  Blank,  an  excellent 
pianist.  You  should  have  him  as  your  accompanist." 
I  asked  his  address,  one  of  them  told  it  to  me,  and  they 
were  as  surprised  as  I  when  I  showed  them  my  letter 
which  I  held  in  my  hand.  Whether  this  be  a  mere  coinci 
dence  or  a  stroke  of  fate  I  am  unable  to  tell.  The  result 
was  that  Blank  was  saved  from  suicide,  contemplated  be 
cause  of  lack  of  work,  by  the  telegram  I  sent  him  that 
night.  In  a  few  days  he  became  my  accompanist  and  re 
mained  such  for  some  time.  The  fact  that  he  left  me 
because  his  name  appeared  on  the  program  was  nothing 
against  his  artistic  ability,  but  only  proves  my  contention 
that  artists  should  be  treated  differently  from  other  peo 
ple.  Blank,  it  seems,  did  not  wish  to  be  known  as  an 
accompanist;  he  considered  himself  a  solo  pianist,  and  he 
would  have  been  a  fine  one  had  his  peculiarities  not  inter- 


200       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

fered.  One  of  these  peculiarities  was  to  insist  that  his 
name  should  be  omitted  from  any  program  in  which  he 
merely  figured  as  an  accompanist.  Of  this  I  was  not 
aware  and,  of  course,  gave  him  credit  upon  the  program 
at  which  he  first  appeared.  I  found  him  to  be  deeply  of 
fended,  and  was  requested  in  no  uncertain  terms  to  leave 
his  name  off  in  the  future. 

It  so  happened  that  sometime  later  I  was  requested 
by  the  promoters  of  a  concert  in  a  city  where  I  was  to 
appear  to  permit  the  inclusion  of  certain  piano  pieces 
played  by  a  local  artist  who  had  had  considerable  suc 
cess  in  Europe;  this  I  was,  of  course,  glad  to  do.  Un 
luckily  it  happened  that  Blank  was  known  by  those  in 
terested  in  this  concert  and  they,  finding  his  name  omitted 
from  the  program  which  I  had  sent  to  the  printer,  in 
serted  it  without  my  knowledge.  The  result  was  that 
my  eccentric  friend  was  with  difficulty  persuaded  to  play 
for  me  at  all  that  evening.  Though  he  did  so,  he  kept 
his  word  in  the  future  and  never  played  for  me  again, 
though  I  had  some  six  weeks  of  concerts  still  to  perform, 
which  he  had  carefully  prepared  with  me  in  advance. 
For  the  rest  of  my  American  season  I  had  to  get  along 
with  any  one  I  could  pick  up,  greatly  to  my  disadvantage. 

From  that  time  Blank  went  down,  and  though  we  re 
mained  friends,  yet  he  had  difficulty  in  making  a  liveli 
hood,  and  I,  with  others  of  his  acquaintance,  was  called 
upon  from  time  to  time  to  see  him  through.  At  last  it 
seemed  to  us  that  he  could  go  no  further,  and  he  finally 
disappeared  from  our  ken.  We  all  recognized  his  tal 
ents,  but  were  unable  to  make  them  work. 

Some  years  afterward  in  London,  Blank's  card  was 
handed  in  at  my  apartment,  and  what  was  my  surprise 
to  find,  instead  of  the  down-at-the-heels,  shabby  man 


FORTUNE  GOOD  AND  ILL  201 

whom  I  had  last  seen  in  New  York,  a  beautifully  dressed, 
clear-skinned,  bright-eyed,  healthy  Englishman,  none 
other  than  my  old  friend,  who,  as  he  took  his  leave 
after  a  pleasant  conversation,  told  me  that  he  had  come 
to  his  senses  and  gone  back  to  his  home  and  family.  Be 
fore  leaving  he  casually  remarked:  "  By  the  way,  you 
were  always  very  good  to  me,  and  saw  me  through  some 
pretty  hard  times  in  my  life.  Let  me  see,  I  think  the 
amount  would  add  up  to  about  so  much,  would  it  not?  I 
never  forget  my  friends  ";  and  he  proceeded  to  write  a 
check  for  the  amount  of  his  indebtedness,  which  was  at 
once  honored.  The  talented  Mr.  Blank  then  disappeared 
out  of  my  ken  as  suddenly  as  he  had  come  into  it. 

The  artist's  life,  like  the  policeman's,  is  not  always  a 
happy  one.  During  my  first  American  season  it  was  nec 
essary  for  me  to  go  to  a  certain  city  to  sing  at  a  concert, 
where  I  was  pursued  almost  on  to  the  stage  by  an  of 
ficer  of  the  court  bearing  a  legal  warrant  to  collect  out 
of  my  fee,  if  he  could,  certain  moneys  to  satisfy  a  debt 
contracted  some  time  before  by  the  person  who  booked 
me  for  this  concert.  I  have  always  thought  it  an  outrage 
that  the  law  should  permit  the  public  performances  of 
an  artist  to  be  interfered  with  in  this  way,  even  though 
the  money  should  be  rightly  due  from  the  artist,  who 
by  the  interference  with  his  performance  would  naturally 
be  rendered  incapable  of  earning  the  wherewithal  to 
satisfy  his  debt.  The  biblical  narrative  tells  how  the 
severe  creditor  threw  his  debtor  into  prison  till  he  should 
pay  to  the  uttermost  farthing,  but  surely  we  have  grown 
beyond  this  antiquated  code! 

Fortunately,  in  my  case  nothing  untoward  happened. 
By  calling  upon  all  the  resources  of  the  actor,  I  man 
aged  so  to  scare  the  officer  of  the  law  with  my  pretended 


202       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

rage  that  he  begged  for  mercy  and  tried  to  find  the  door 
to  get  away  from  the  madman,  who  he  thought  would  do 
him  bodily  injury.  Those  who  saw  the  scene  begged 
me  to  calm  myself,  reminding  me  that  I  had  to  sing  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  were  surprised  to  see  me  come  smiling 
out  of  my  anger  the  instant  the  door  was  closed  behind 
the  minion  of  the  law. 

Upon  another  occasion,  at  one  of  my  concerts  in  a  city 
that  shall  remain  nameless,  great  was  the  apparent  con 
cern  of  the  local  manager  who  stated  that,  though  the 
concert  had  been  successful,  for  it  was  given  before  a  large 
audience,  he  was  unable  to  pay  me  for  my  services  because 
of  an  action  taken  by  his  creditors.  But  he  reengaged  me 
to  come  again  with  another  artist,  when,  as  he  said,  he 
would  be  able  to  give  me  a  check  for  both  appearances. 
On  the  second  occasion,  however,  the  manager  of  the 
assisting  artist,  learning  what  had  previously  taken  place, 
put  a  representative  into  the  box  office  on  behalf  of  his 
client,  with  the  result  that  when  he  had  his  money  and 
other  creditors  obtained  theirs,  I  came  for  the  second  time 
empty  away. 

Such  experiences  have  been  infrequent,  I  am  glad  to 
say;  but  a  number  of  years  afterward,  upon  visiting  the 
same  city  to  appear  in  an  orchestral  concert,  I  was  waited 
upon  by  the  president  of  the  society,  its  conductor,  and 
its  treasurer,  to  whom  as  we  sat  in  my  room  I  narrated 
what  had  happened  at  my  earlier  appearances.  We  all 
had  a  good  laugh  over  it  and  I  was  assured  that  nothing 
of  the  kind  could  happen  now,  as  a  splendid  audience 
would  be  in  attendance.  On  proceeding  to  the  rehearsal 
I  found  to  my  disappointment  that  the  orchestra  was  a 
scratch  affair, 'the  occasion  not  being  one  of  any  impor 
tance,  so  that  the  ultimate  performance  was  poor  and  re- 


FORTUNE  GOOD  AND  ILL  203 

suited  in  my  getting  a  check  for  one-sixth  of  the  amount 
of  my  contract,  the  balance  of  which  I  have  never  been 
able  to  collect  to  this  day.  Needless  to  say  I  shook  the 
dust  of  that  town  from  my  shoes  for  ever.  Let  it  be 
clearly  understood  that  such  occurrences  as  those  I  have 
related  are  very  rare;  I  do  not  wish  to  besmirch  the 
reputation  of  the  music  givers  of  America,  to  whom  I 
am  so  greatly  indebted. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CYCLES    OF   SONG 

For  doth  not  Song  to  the  whole  world  belong? 

Is  it  not  given  wherever  tears  may  fall; 
Wherever  hearts  can  melt,  or  blushes  glow, 
Or  mirth  or  sadness  mingle  as  they  flow  — 

A  heritage  for  all? 

—  Author  unknown. 

ALTOGETHER  I  had  a  busy,  valuable,  and  interesting 
season  in  my  native  country  and  returned  to  London 
rather  pleased  with  myself  over  having  made  such  a 
good  beginning.  There  was  a  certain  amount  of  kudos 
gained  from  the  fact  that  I,  an  American,  had  been 
asked  to  go  with  the  foreigners  to  the  United  States. 
Few  of  my  countrywomen  had  returned  from  Europe  to 
sing  upon  the  operatic  stage,  and  no  American  men,  so 
that  I  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  first. 

Soon  after  reaching  England  I  gave  another  of  my 
own  recitals,  bringing  forward  what  was,  in  its  entirety, 
as  new  to  the  London  public  as  it  was  to  New  York, 
"  The  Beautiful  Magelone,"  by  Brahms,  and  telling  in  a 
few  words  between  the  numbers  the  story  by  Ludwig 
Tieck,  a  quaint  little  mediaeval  tale  upon  which  lovely 
lyrics  are  strung  as  pearls  upon  a  thread. 

All  the  great  song  cycles  are  founded  upon  poems  of 
romance.  Beethoven's  early  attempt,  "  To  the  Distant 
Beloved,"  is  one  of  them;  a  breathing  out  of  emotion,  of 
longing  to  be  again  by  the  side  of  the  dear  one,  and  has 
no  great  depth  of  sentiment.  In  Schubert's  "  Songs  of 

204 


CYCLES  OF  SONG  205 

the  Mill  "  and  "  The  Winter  Journey,"  we  find  veritable 
gems  of  song.  Schumann,  in  setting  Heine's  "  Dichter- 
liebe  "  (Poet's  Love),  had  at  hand  something  of  a 
tragedy,  for  the  lady  jilts  her  lover  and  marries  a  rich 
man.  In  his  still  more  beautiful  cycle  called  "  Frauen- 
liebe  und  Leben  "  (Woman's  Love  and  Life),  domestic 
happiness  is  revealed. 

All  of  these,  however,  except  Woman's  Love  and  Life, 
are  songs  for  a  man,  though  women  frequently  undertake 
them,  perhaps  not  realizing  the  artistic  error  into  which 
they  fall.  Yet  it  is  said  in  England  that  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  musical  experiences  ever  known  was  that  of 
hearing  Jenny  Lind  render  the  "  Songs  of  the  Mill." 
I  asked  Otto  Goldschmidt  why  his  wife  had  sung  songs 
intended  for  a  man;  but  he  seemed  to  find  that  there 
was  nothing  incongruous  in  it,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
she  had  sung  them  so  exquisitely. 

I  happen  to  have  in  my  possession  a  letter  from  Pro 
fessor  Max  Miiller,  the  son  of  the  Wilhelm  Miiller  who 
wrote  the  poems.  Max  Miiller  I  knew  rather  well;  he 
was  fond  of  music,  and  attended  my  first  production  of  the 
"  Miiller  Lieder  "  at  St.  James's  Hall.  In  thanking  me 
for  what  he  seemed  to  feel  was  a  new  light  which  I  had 
shed  upon  these,  he  told  me  in  his  note  that  many  years 
before  Jenny  Lind  had  sung  them  for  him,  thinking  he 
would  like  to  hear  his  father's  poem  rendered  by  her.  It 
is  known  that  her  voice  went  off  considerably  in  her  mid 
dle  life,  and  I  imagine  it  was  partly  because  of  this  that 
the  philologist  expressed  himself  as  being  so  deeply  dis 
appointed  by  the  great  cantatrice's  rendition. 

My  work  during  the  London  season  of  1897  was  al 
most  entirely  confined  to  the  opera;  though,  besides  my 
own  concerts,  a  few  other  appearances  preceded  the  open- 


206       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ing  of  the  opera  season.  One  of  these  was  with  Mottl 
in  the  third  act  of  Wagner's  "  Parsifal,"  in  which  I 
again  had  the  great  artistic  joy  of  singing  the  noble 
phrases  allotted  to  the  anguish-ridden  Amfortas.  The 
two  months  following  were  so  filled  with  operatic  per 
formances  and  their  necessary  rehearsals  that  little  work 
could  be  done  outside  Covent  Garden.  There  I  had 
twenty-five  appearances  in  seven  master  works  within  two 
months.  My  own  efforts  were  entirely  devoted  to  the 
operas  of  Wagner,  with  the  single  exception  of  Kienzl's 
"  Evangelimann,"  in  which  I  played  the  part  of  the 
scoundrelly  brother  Johannes  to  the  saintly  Mathias  of 
Van  Dyck  and  the  Magdalena  of  Madame  Schumann- 
Heink. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  students  to  know  that  when  in 
America  during  the  previous  few  months  I  had  studied 
this  role  while  on  tour  by  means  of  the  recorded  music 
upon  the  pianola.  Not  having  an  accompanist  always  at 
hand,  I  would  take  the  perforated  rolls  specially  pre 
pared  for  me,  place  them  upon  an  instrument  in  my 
apartment,  and  turn  on  the  music.  The  accompaniment 
was  thus  played  mechanically  and  could  be  turned  back 
whenever  I  made  a  mistake  and  wished  to  begin  over, 
while  I,  the  book  before  me,  committed  the  lines  to 
memory,  and  either  closed  my  eyes  or  turned  away  as  I 
desired  to  repeat  my  part  without  looking  at  the  notes. 

The  other  characters  performed  that  season  were  Tel- 
ramund,  Beckmesser,  Kurwenal,  Alberich,  Wotan,  and 
Wolfram.  All  these  were,  of  course,  by  this  time  sung 
in  German  with  the  exception  of  "  Tannhauser,"  which, 
owing  to  the  presence  of  French  artists  at  Covent  Garden 
that  year,  was  sung  in  the  French  text  prepared  by  Wag 
ner  himself  for  the  first  Parisian  production.  I  origi- 


CYCLES  OF  SONG  207 

nally  studied  the  opera  in  Italian;  then  in  German;  while 
on  the  occasion  of  the  performances  of  the  fiftieth  anni 
versary  of  the  work  it  was  given  in  English;  and  now  it 
was  in  French!  Journet  was  the  Landgrave,  Van  Dyck 
Tannhauser,  and  Madame  Eames  Elizabeth.  The  con 
ductor  was  Mancinelli,  to  whom  it  was  all  one  in  what 
language  anything  was  sung;  his  language  was  the  lan 
guage  of  music. 

At  this  time  I  had  an  interesting  evening  with  Henry 
Irving.  No  one  had  been  a  harder  worker  than  he,  nor 
in  his  day  had  played  more  parts.  He  said,  "  Ah,  my 
boy!  "  in  his  peculiar  manner,  "  I  see  what  you  are  doing 
at  the  opera  —  something  different  every  time  you  play, 
eh?  It  reminds  me  of  myself  once;  nowadays  I  have 
long  runs.  Yes,  yes,  so  much  for  success;  but  the  time 
was  when  I  had  to  play  a  different  thing  every  night,  too ; 
more  of  them  than  you  do  now,  many  more,  only  all 
that  I  did  was  in  our  own  language;  you  have  to  sing 
sometimes  in  Italian,  sometimes  in  French,  sometimes  in 
German,  besides  singing  in  English.  Then,  there's  the 
music !  How  the  devil  do  you  know  what  is  coming  next  ? 
How  do  you  keep  one  opera  separate  from  the  other  in 
your  mind?  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  out  of  it.  Ah,  but 
it  is  a  great  life;  yes,  yes,  my  boy,  a  great  life!  Hard 
work,  though  —  what?  —  hard  work." 

'  Well,  Sir  Henry,"  said  I,  uhard  work  doesn't  seem 
to  trouble  you  at  all." 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  like  it;  the  more  of  it  the  better  for 
me.  As  long  as  a  man  is  interested  he's  happy,  if  he  is 
happy  he  is  content,  and  if  he  is  content  he  is  all  right. 
Work  as  hard  as  you  like,  it  will  not  hurt  you,  if  you're 
happy  and  content.  So,  my  boy,  even  with  all  those 
languages  and  all  that  music,  if  you  like  it,  you're  all 


208       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

right!  But  what  puzzles  me  is,  how  you  know  when  to 
come  in!  I  don't  know  .much  about  music,"  he  added, 
"  but  I  like  a  tune,  and  I  don't  find  any  tune  in  that 
damned  German  music!  " 

The  company  at  Covent  Garden  that  year  was  indeed 
of  the  best,  including  all  the  great  people,  and  under 
Anton  Seidl  I  had  the  joy  of  singing  Wotan  in  "  The 
Valkyrie  "  with  Van  Dyck,  the  talented  American,  Susan 
Strong,  Schumann-Heink,  and  the  superb  Marie  Brema. 

My  inches  are  not  great,  though  my  voice  was  ade 
quate  for  that  and  many  subsequent  occasions  as  the  Mas 
ter  of  the  Gods ;  -but  to  simulate  a  height  much  greater 
than  my  own  was  a  rather  difficult  thing  to  do,  par 
ticularly  when  I  was  contrasted  with  persons  taller  than 
myself.  It  is  interesting  for  an  amateur  and  student  to 
know  how  an  artist  supplies  natural  deficiencies.  In  my 
case,  there  being  no  secret  about  it,  I  confess  to  availing 
myself  of  every  aid  that  costuming  and  make-up  can  af 
ford.  On  my  feet  were  buskins  with  heavy  soles,  includ 
ing  insoles  and  high  heels,  which  together  gave  me  an  ex 
tra  three  inches.  The  cloak  that  hung  from  my  shoulders 
reached  nearly  to  the  ground  in  perpendicular  lines  to  add 
to  the  effect  of  height,  there  was  long  blond  hair  and 
beard,  a  helmet  crowned  my  head  with  two  great  eagle 
wings  rising  from  its  sides,  and  I  carried  a  long  spear. 
As  I  am  sturdy  of  build,  the  effect  was  remarkable  from 
the  front.  I  was  constantly  surprising  myself  in  my 
make-up,  as  the  god  Wotan  one  night  and  the  dwarf 
Alberich  the  next;  now  the  stalwart  Telramund  and  then 
the  querulous  Beckmesser.  But  these  things  are  "  all 
one,"  as  the  Clown  says  in  u  Twelfth  Night  " : 

"  But  that's  all  one,  our  play  is  done, 
And  we'll  strive  to  please  you  every  day." 


DAVID  BISPHAM 

as  Wotan  in  Wagner's  "  Valkyrie." 
From  a  Photograph  by  Arnold  Genthe,  New  York 


CYCLES  OF  SONG  209 

Before  leaving  for  America  I  had  an  invitation  to  sing 
at  the  Birmingham  festival  in  the  autumn  of  1897,  and 
while  in  New  York  had  been  engaged  to  appear  at  the 
festival  at  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  which  began  only 
two  weeks  earlier  than  that  at  Birmingham.  It  will 
readily  be  seen  that  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  bestir  my 
self  if  I  were  to  sing  at  both  of  these  gatherings.  That 
feat,  however,  was  accomplished  after  a  holiday  taken  to 
recuperate  from  the  fatigues  of  the  London  season,  by 
returning  to  America  in  September,  just  long  enough  to 
take  part  in  four  of  the  Worcester  concerts.  What  was 
most  vividly  impressed  upon  my  mind  there  was  the  per 
formance  of  Horatio  Parker's  beautiful  oratorio  "  Hora 
Novissima,"  Madame  Gadski,  Gertrude  May  Stein, 
Evan  Williams,  and  myself  being  the  quartette  fortunate 
enough  to  render  this  distinguished  composition. 

In  this  connection  I  am  glad  to  say  that  upon  my  re 
turn  to  England  I  not  only  carried  word  of  the  success  of 
Parker's  work  to  the  directors  of  the  Birmingham  fes 
tival,  but  took  with  me  as  well  a  copy  of  the  music,  which 
I  placed  in  the  hands  of  Richter,  by  whom  it  was  at  once 
appreciated.  He  showed  it  to  others,  with  the  result 
that  not  long  afterward  this  work  was  performed  in 
Worcester  Cathedral  at  the  Festival  of  the  Three  Choirs, 
and  because  of  its  English  reception  our  distinguished 
American  musician  received  an  honorary  degree  from 
Cambridge  University. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  give  the  programs  of  the  two  func 
tions  at  which  I  sang  in  such  close  proximity;  suffice  it  to 
say  that  our  oldest  American  festival  did  not  in  the  least 
suffer,  all  things  being  considered,  by  comparison  with  the 
splendid  performances  of  the  much  older  institution  at 
Birmingham,  There  is  in  America,  however,  .a  lack  of 


210       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ceremoniousness,  almost  amounting  to  informality,  in 
contrast  to  similar  occasions  abroad.  I  recall  two  cases 
of  assumption  on  the  part  of  great  prima  donnas  who 
took  part  in  such  entertainments  in  the  United  States 
which  could  hardly  have  happened  in  England.  One  of 
these  queens  of  song  entered  the  artists'  room  in  the  fes 
tival  hall,  stared  around  superciliously,  and  inquired, 
"Who  are  all  these  people?"  She  was  told  that  they 
were  the  other  principals,  members  of  the  committee,  and 
others  having  official  relations  with  the  function. 
Haughtily  declining  an  introduction  to  any  of  them,  she 
demanded  a  dressing  room  of  her  own.  One  was  hastily 
extemporized  in  a  corner  of  the  auditorium  near  the 
stage,  from  which  my  lady  emerged  in  her  royal  raiment, 
as  frigid  as  an  icicle,  leaving  her  audience  fairly  frost 
bitten.  Even  more  famous  was  the  other  diva  who  found 
the  hall  at  the  dress  rehearsal  crowded  with  auditors. 
She  demanded  to  know  who  they  were,  and  what  they 
were  doing  at  a  rehearsal.  It  was  explained  that  t'he 
houses  for  the  regular  performances  had  been  sold  out, 
and  the  public  demand  was  so  great  that  these  townsfolk 
had  been  admitted  for  a  small  sum  to  hear  as  much  as 
they  could  under  the  circumstances.  "  If  they  have  paid 
you,"  the  songstress  rejoined,  "  you  will  have  to  pay  me." 
When  the  music  began,  she  sang  under  her  voice  so  that 
she  could  not  be  heard  by  the  orchestra.  It  was  ex 
plained  that  she  must  sing  louder.  "  Send  these  people 
away,  then!  "  she  ordered.  The  management  had  to  do 
as  she  wished  rather  than  submit  to  an  extortion,  and  the 
audience,  departing,  carried  word  of  such  arrant  cupidity 
throughout  the  city,  to  which  neither  lady  ever  returned. 
Quite  otherwise  was  a  certain  artist  treated  at  one 
of  the  English  festivals,  where  no  such  nonsense  is  put  up 


CYCLES  OF  SONG  211 

with.  The  festival  opened  at  the  customary  hour  or 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  One  of  the  principal 
soloists  had  not  arrived,  and  did  not  arrive,  for  over  an 
hour.  Another  artist  sang  her  part,  for  she  had  for 
gotten  that  she  had  to  appear,  and  was  sound  asleep. 

When  she  arrived  at  the  hall  she  was  ushered  into  the 
committee  room,  where  the  heads  of  the  festival  threat 
ened  to  terminate  her  engagement  then  and  there.  On 
her  knees,  before  the  outraged  committee,  she  was  so 
far  forgiven  as  to  be  permitted  to  finish  her  engagement, 
but  that  door  for  further  advancement  remained  forever 
closed  to  her. 

At  Birmingham,  besides  "Elijah,"  "The  Messiah," 
and  many  other  choral  and  miscellaneous  works,  there 
was  given  Purcell's  "  King  Arthur,"  which  in  its  quaint 
old  style  was  extremely  effective,  reproducing  in  1897  the 
work  first  heard  in  1691.  This  contains  the  remarkable 
Frost  Scene,  which  I  have  since  so  often  performed  in  my 
concerts.  Love  comes  to  the  frozen  North  and  bids  the 
"  Genius  of  Cold  awake,  and  winter  from  his  furry 
mantle  shake."  Then  is  seen  to  arise  the  majestic  figure 
of  the  Frost  King,  icicles  depending  from  his  hair  and 
beard.  As  he  shakes  himself  free  from  the  snow,  he 
addresses  Love  in  shivering  accents ;  but  to  utter  Dryden's 
extraordinary  lines  effectively  is  a  task  which  might  puz 
zle  any  vocalist,  for  the  voice  must  shake,  literally  shake 
and  chatter,  with  the  cold.  The  piece  cannot  be  sung,  in 
the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word  song;  it  has  to  be 
rendered,  but  rendered  effectively;  and  I  may  say,  with 
out  boasting,  I  have  known  half  the  women  in  the  au 
dience  to  draw  their  cloaks  about  them  before  I  had 
finished  my  declamation  of  this  two-century-old  novelty. 

Richter  prepared  this  antiquated  music  with  great  care, 


212       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

amusing  us  by  his  quaint  pronunciation  of  English. 
When  he  first  came  to  London,  his  accent  and  general 
manner  caused  many  stories  to  be  told  about  him.  On 
one  occasion  he  had  been  invited  with  his  wife,  whom  he 
adored,  to  go  for  an  extended  visit  to  a  country  house 
not  far  from  London.  Richter  had  to  come  up  to  town 
every  few  days,  and  at  the  railway  station  bought  a  re 
turn  ticket  for  himself,  and  a  single  ticket  for  his  wife. 
To  the  amusement  of  the  bystanders  he  was  heard  to  ask 
in  a  loud  voice,  "  Giff  me  two  tickets,  vone  for  me  to  come 
back,  and  vone  for  my  vife, —  not  to  come  back !  " 

During  their  residence  in  England  Mrs.  Richter  be 
came  ill  and  was  afflicted  with  attacks  of  fainting, —  what 
the  Germans  call  schwindeln, —  and  had  to  lie  down. 
When  some  one  solicitously  inquired  of  the  great  con 
ductor  after  the  health  of  his  wife,  Doctor  Richter  re 
plied:  u  My  vife,  she  is  very  bad;  venn  she  does  not  lie 
she  schwindles." 

It  was  rather  a  rush  to  sing  upon  Friday  evening  in 
Worcester,  Massachusetts,  and  catch  the  steamer  on 
Saturday  morning  in  New  York  in  order  to  present  my 
self  a  week  later  at  Birmingham,  England,  where  I  had 
faithfully  promised  the  committee  to  be  for  the  final  full 
rehearsals.  Richter  was  satisfied  before  I  left  for 
America  that  I  knew  the  work  that  I  was  to  perform; 
but  I  was  not  prepared  for  a  heavy  fog  off  the  Irish  coast, 
which  did  not  allow  my  vessel  to  land  in  Liverpool  until 
Sunday.  I  sent  a  telegram  from  Queenstown  and,  much 
ashamed  of  myself,  arrived  at  Birmingham  on  Sunday 
morning  during  a  rehearsal.  All  went  well,  however, 
and  I  was  forgiven,  as  I  had  to  contend  against  force 
majeure. 

A  few  days  after  the  conclusion  of  the  Birmingham 


CYCLES  OF  SONG  213 

festival,  I  was  invited  to  appear  before  Queen  Victoria 
at  her  Scotch  country  seat  of  Balmoral  Castle.  Great 
statesmen  and  brave  warriors  had  quailed  before  that 
little  old  lady,  who  knew  everything  that  went  on  within 
her  realm;  and  I  have  rarely  been  afflicted  with  such  an 
attack  of  nerves  as  that  from  which  I  suffered  that  eve 
ning  before  a  company  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  many  of 
whom  I  knew.  All  of  them  probably  understood  what 
was  going  on  under  my  evening  coat  and  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  my  knees. 

The  castle,  by  the  way,  is  not  a  castle  but  merely  a 
good-sized  country  house,  much  less  ostentatious  than 
those  occupied  by  many  of  the  English  nobility  and  gentry. 
I  was  put  up  at  a  neighboring  inn  and  brought  during  the 
evening  to  the  royal  residence,  where  I  was  made  com 
fortable  until,  dinner  over,  the  Queen,  having  reached 
the  drawing-room,  would  be  ready  to  receive  me. 

I  was  informed  by  one  of  the  gentlemen-in-waiting  how 
to  make  my  entrance  into  the  royal  presence.  On  step 
ping  into  the  room  I  was  to  bow  once,  take  two  steps 
forward,  and  bow  again;  two  more  steps  forward,  bow 
again,  and  I  would  then  be  at  my  place  beside  the  piano. 
My  accompanist,  having  done  likewise,  was  to  take  his 
seat,  and  the  music  was  to  begin  immediately.  The  little 
rehearsal  having  been  gone  through  satisfactorily,  I 
tremblingly  entered  the  august  presence,  did  as  I  was 
told,  and  proceeded  to  sing,  the  program  having  been  ar 
ranged  beforehand  by  correspondence  with  one  of  the 
ladies  of  Queen  Victoria's  immediate  circle. 

The  Monarch  was  seated  at  a  little  table  in  the  middle 
of  a  rather  large  room,  the  windows  of  which  were  hung 
with  tartan  plaid.  She  had  on  enormous  spectacles  and 
with  the  aid  of  a  magnifying  glass  she  consulted  the  pro- 


214       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

gram,  which  had  been  written  in  large  letters  and  placed 
upon  the  table  beside  her.  It  happened  that  as  I  was 
singing  Schubert's  "  Who  is  Sylvia/'  the  Queen  lifted 
the  glass  to  read  my  program,  just  as  I  sang  the  words : 

"  Love  doth  to  her  eyes  repair 
To  help  him  of  his  blindness." 

When  I  came  to  this  passage,  she  quickly  dropped  the 
magnifying  glass  and  put  down  the  program,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  I  need  nothing  to  help  me  of  my  blindness !  "  I 
afterward  learned  that  she  was  sensitive  about  her  rapidly 
failing  eyesight.  Upon  finishing  the  first  half  of  my 
short  selection  of  songs,  the  Queen's  principal  lady-in- 
waiting  came  forward  and  took  me  to  her  Majesty,  who 
spoke  with  me  some  minutes  kindly,  asking  about  myself, 
my  English  ancestry,  and  my  American  life  and  artistic 
desires.  When  the  concert  was  over  she  expressed  her 
gratification  at  the  performance,  and  I  departed  from  the 
presence  to  be  entertained  at  supper  by  some  of  the  gen 
tlemen  of  the  household.  A  few  days  later  I  received  as 
a  memento  of  the  occasion  a  beautiful  scarfpin  from 
Queen  Victoria,  with  an  appreciative  note  thanking  me 
for  the  pleasure  the  music  had  given  her  Majesty. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BEETHOVEN  IN  DRAMA 

This  is  our  master,  famous,  calm,  and  dead, 
Borne  on  our  shoulders. —  Robert  Browning. 

AFTER  all  my  experience  I  seldom  felt  that  I  was 
really  acting  in  opera,  and  always  longed  to  take  part 
in  straight  drama ;  though  opera  was  my  business  and  my 
pleasure  as  well,  I  nearly  always  felt  myself  in  an 
anomalous  position.  To  sing  was  one  thing,  to  act  quite 
a  different  matter;  but  both  to  sing  and  act  seemed  to 
me  somewhat  artificial.  I  have  found  operatic  acting  so 
limited  by  the  music  that  it  imposes  a  restraint  upon  the 
performer  and  often  obliges  him  to  make  gestures  which 
carry  no  conviction.  But  some  gestures  have  to  be  made ; 
the  singer  cannot  stand  motionless  as  in  a  concert. 
Opera  acting  is  sui  generis  and  would  be  entirely  out  of 
place  and  grotesque  in  drama.  Yet  fortunately  such 
parts  as  generally  fell  to  my  lot  on  the  lyric  stage  were 
so  strong  in  character  that  they  are  not  open  to  these 
objections. 

Some  years  before,  when  living  in  Florence  and  study 
ing  for  concert  work,  I  was  shown  by  a  friend  an  old  pho 
tograph,  which  at  first  I  took  to  be  a  copy  of  Beethoven's 
portrait.  This  was  not  the  case,  however,  for  the  pic 
ture  was  the  representation  of  a  well-known  Viennese 
actor  in  the  part  of  Beethoven  in  a  little  play  by  Hugo 
Muller  called  "  Adelaide."  I  was  greatly  interested  and 
realized  that  I,  too,  could  look  like  Beethoven.  I  made 

215 


216       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

up  my  mind  to  act  the  part,  though  I  did  not  know  where 
the  play  could  be  found.  Several  years  later  I  mentioned 
the  matter  to  a  friend  in  London,  who  said  he  knew  of 
the  play  and  had  seen  it  in  Germany.  As  he  was  start 
ing  for  Berlin  that  very  day  he  promised  to  make  in 
quiries  of  an  actor  of  his  acquaintance  and  try  to  obtain 
it  for  me.  A  few  weeks  after,  I  was  delighted  to  find 
that  he  had  brought  me  a  little  pamphlet  yellow  with  age 
which  he  had  seen  by  chance  upon  a  second-hand  book 
stall  in  the  street  and  bought  for  a  few  pence.  With 
my  German  master  I  immediately  set  to  work  translat 
ing  it,  though  there  seemed  then  to  be  no  opportunity  of 
performing  the  piece.  This  opportunity  came,  however, 
as  all  things  come  to  him  who  waits. 

Soon  after  I  reached  America  in  October,  1897,  my 
friend  Morris  Bagby,  at  whose  now  famous  Musical 
Mornings  I  had  already  sung  twice,  asked  me  if  I  had 
anything  new  to  vary  the  character  of  these  entertain 
ments,  particularly  of  that  with  which  the  ballroom  in 
the  new  Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel  was  to  be  opened  on 
December  6.  I  told  Mr.  Bagby  of  my  musical  find  in 
the  Beethoven  play.  Very  enthusiastic,  he  immediately 
made  arrangements  to  produce  it  and  to  have  Anton  Seidl 
with  his  orchestra  render  a  short  program  of  the  master's 
music  before  the  play  began.  In  the  cast  were  Mrs. 
Wolcot  and  Mrs.  Whiffen,  two  of  the  most  distinguished 
elder  actresses  of  the  American  stage,  and  the  beautiful 
Julie  Opp,  later  Mrs.  William  Faversham,  who  was  ad 
mirable  in  the  title  role.  The  services  of  these  three 
ladies  .were  loaned  me  through  the  courtesy  of  my  friend 
Daniel  Frohman,  from  the  famous  company  of  the  old 
Lyceum  Theater,  which  then  stood  in  Fourth  Avenue 
near  Twenty-fourth  Street.  I  had  the  further  assistance 


BEETHOVEN  IN  DRAMA  217 

of  Miss  Nita  Carritte  and  of  MacKenzie  Gordon,  the 
sweet-voiced  Scotch  tenor,  who  played  the  other  male 
part  and  sang  Beethoven's  exquisite  lyric,  "Adelaide." 

The  piano  on  the  stage,  which  represented  as  nearly  as 
possible  the  interior  of  the  room  in  which  Beethoven 
died,  was  the  master's  own  concert  grand,  which  had  been 
kindly  loaned  me  for  this  occasion  by  Morris  Steinert  of 
New  Haven,  out  of  his  famous  collection  of  old  instru 
ments. 

As  I  sat  in  my  dressing  room  before  the  play,  I  had 
beside  me  on  the  table  a  bust  of  Beethoven,  from  which 
I  was  making  up.  The  touches  here  and  there,  added 
to  the  assumed  expression  on  my  own  countenance,  made 
the  resemblance  between  my  face  and  that  of  the  bust 
quite  remarkable.  A  friend,  entering  the  room  at  my 
back,  saw  my  face  in  the  glass  and  that  of  the  bust  over 
my  shoulder,  and  in  amazement  exclaimed,  "  If  you 
were  whitened  or  the  bust  colored  no  one  could  dis 
tinguish  between  the  two  heads."  Thus  encouraged  I 
went  on  with  my  part.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  play, 
Seidl  came  on  the  stage,  his  eyes  all  red,  and  said  to  me 
in  a  broken  voice,  u  You  are  ze  only  man  vich  haff  effer 
made  me  to  veep." 

The  occasion  was  memorable  to  me  in  more  ways  than 
one,  and  led  to  many  subsequent  performances  of  the 
piece  that  season  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Boston, 
Chicago,  and  also  in  London  during  the  following  sum 
mer.  There  were  changes  of  cast,  which  included  the 
names  of  Yvonne  de  Treville  and  Kitty  Cheatham  as 
Clara  and  Hilda  Spong  as  Adelai'de;  and  I  had  on  several 
of  these  occasions  either  Mr.  Damrosch  to  conduct  the 
Beethoven  program  for  my  play,  or  the  Dannreuther 
Quartette  to  play  the  master's  chamber  music,  or  Ma- 


2i8       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

dame  Gadski  to  sing.  The  performances  without  excep 
tion  gave  pleasure  and  made  an  indelible  impression  on 
the  minds  of  our  audiences,  but  for  some  reason  the  Press 
has  with  almost  one  accord  objected  to  the  presentation 
of  Beethoven  on  the  stage,  several  critics  even  going  so 
far  as  to  hold  that  I  was  trespassing  upon  sacred  ground 
in  impersonating  him. 

Events  had  brought  about  a  cessation  of  opera  under 
Mr.  Grau,  but  my  second  American  season  began,  never 
theless,  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  where  I  as 
sisted  Madame  Marcella  Sembrich  at  her  first  appearance 
in  concert  in  America,  when  that  celebrated  and  gifted 
lady  sang  in  superb  fashion.  On  several  subsequent  oc 
casions  that  season  was  I  honored  by  Madame  Sembrich's 
request  to  participate  with  her  in  her  concerts  in  New 
York  and  elsewhere.  It  will  be  recalled  that  we  had 
both  been  pupils  of  the  old  Italian  master,  Francesco 
Lamperti.  Sembrich  had  the  advantage  over  almost  any 
singer  I  ever  knew  in  being  so  musical  as  to  have  practi 
cally  mastered  both  violin  and  piano  before  taking  up  the 
study  of  the  voice.  Being  so  fine  a  musician  it  is  no  won 
der  that  she  was  able  to  accomplish  what  she  did  in  her 
later  years.  Added  to  these  accomplishments  was  a 
great  histrionic  talent,  which  made  her  one  of  the  out 
standing  ornaments  of  her  profession. 

The  season  upon  which  I  embarked  in  this  way  turned 
out  to  be  one  of  the  busiest  of  my  whole  career:  it  gave 
me  112  appearances  in  28  American  cities,  in  most  of 
which  I  had  not  sung  before,  embraced  every  kind  of 
vocal  work,  including  opera,  oratorio,  my  own  individual 
song  recitals,  miscellaneous  concerts,  and  musical  fes 
tivals,  such  as  those  of  Indianapolis,  of  Ann  Arbor,  and 
the  famous  Cincinnati  festival,  with  which  my  season 


BEETHOVEN  IN  DRAMA  219 

closed.  During  these  appearances  I  sang  in  ten  differ 
ent  oratorios  or  works  of  a  similar  nature.  For  the 
sake  of  the  student  I  will  mention  their  names:  Han 
del's  "  Messiah,"  Mendelssohn's  "  Elijah,"  Beethoven's 
"  Missa  Solemnis,"  Schumann's  "  Paradise  and  the  Peri," 
Berlioz's  "  Damnation  of  Faust,"  Gounod's  "  Redemp 
tion,"  Benoist's  "  Lucifer,"  Massenet's  "  Eve,"  Grieg's 
"  Olaf  Trygvasson,"  and  Stehle's  "  Frithiof's  Return," 
besides  selections  from  "  Parsifal "  and  other  Wag- 
nerian  music  dramas. 

However  interesting  such  concerts  and  festivals  as 
these  may  seem  to  the  singer,  however  valuable  they  are 
to  his  artistic  standing,  it  is  nevertheless  a  fact  that  grand 
opera  exercises  the  greatest  influence  upon  the  mind,  not 
only  of  the  participant,  but  upon  that  of  the  public  as 
well.  The  average  music  lover  thinks  more  of  an  opera 
singer  than  he  does  of  an  oratorio  singer,  nor  is  the  rea 
son  far  to  seek  —  the  glamour  of  the  stage  holds  un 
disputed  sway,  and  a  story  told  in  choral  form  is  far  less 
impressive  than  a  story  told  in  costume,  with  action,  and 
upon  a  stage  furnished  with  appropriate  scenery. 

While  singing  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  dur 
ing  the  previous  season,  we  were  given  to  understand  that 
most  of  the  money  made  in  New  York  was  lost  during  the 
opera  company's  visit  to  Chicago.  Whatever  may  have 
been  the  reason  for  the  temporary  abandonment  of  opera, 
the  fact  remains  that  Maurice  Grau  did  not  have  an 
opera  company  in  New  York  during  the  season  of  1897- 
98.  During  the  previous  year,  Walter  Damrosch  had 
conducted  a  season  of  grand  opera  in  Philadelphia,  and, 
the  field  being  left  open  in  1897—98,  in  conjunction  with 
Charles  Ellis,  manager  of  the  Boston  Symphony  Orches 
tra,  he  inaugurated  in  the  Quaker  City  that  winter  a  siea- 


220       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

son  of  opera,  which  was  continued  in  New  York,  Boston, 
and  Chicago  and  which  yielded  the  new  firm  of  impre 
sarios  a  handsome  return.  Even  Chicago,  which  the 
previous  year  was  loath  to  patronize  opera,  now  turned 
out  its  beauty  and  fashion  and  mightily  encouraged  the 
young  impresarios  who  had  dared  to  tread  the  path  which 
such  a  master  as  Maurice  Grau  had  followed  almost  to 
his  ruin.  The  motto  of  Damrosch  and  Ellis  might  well 
have  been  "  Nothing  venture,  nothing  win."  As  a  mat 
ter  of  fact  they  did  venture,  and  they  did  win. 

An  admirable  company  had  been  gathered  together, 
headed  by  Mesdames  Melba  and  Nordica,  and  also  the 
talented  young  singer  Madame  Gadski.  Among  the 
tenors  were  Salignac  the  Frenchman,  and  Kraus  the  Ger 
man;  among  the  barytones  and  basses  were  Campanari, 
an  Italian,  Emil  Fischer,  and  myself;  and  a.  considerable 
repertory  of  opera  was  given,  standard  works  of  the 
French  and  Italian  schools,  but  more  particularly  of 
Wagnerian  music-drama,  of  which  the  public  of  those 
days  never  had  enough. 

Any  opera  season  is  likely  to  have  its  surprises,  and 
the  surprise  of  that  year  was  the  success  of  "  The  Flying 
Dutchman."  The  character  was  not  new  to  me,  yet  was 
one  in  which  I  had  never  before  felt  myself  entirely  at 
home.  Doubtless  the  reason  for  its  popularity  that  sea 
son  was  that  Damrosch  took  up  the  work  with  enthusiasm, 
whereas  my  previous  performances  in  London  had  been 
conducted  in  a  perfunctory  manner  by  those  who  did  not 
really  care  for  the  music,  characterized  by  Madame 
Eames  at  the  time  as  a  "  back  number."  Then,  too,  we 
had  the  great  advantage  of  the  assistance  of  Madame 
Gadski,  who  perfectly  suited  the  part  of  Elsa. 


BEETHOVEN  IN  DRAMA  221 

I  have  often  wondered  whether  the  public  can  real 
ize  what  the  work  of  a  busy  artist  obliges  him  to  do. 
The  opera  season  in  Philadelphia  was  so  arranged  that 
about  two  weeks  elapsed  before  I  had  to  appear  again 
with  Mr.  Damrosch's  organization;  my  manager  booked 
a  number  of  concerts  which  I  proceeded  to  fulfill  mean 
while.  After  singing  with  the  Boston  Symphony  Or 
chestra  in  Philadelphia,  I  appeared  the  following  evening 
in  Washington  as  Telramund  in  "  Lohengrin  "  with  our 
opera  company.  Proceeding  immediately  to  Brooklyn, 
I  sang  again  with  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra  at  the 
old  Academy  of  Music  on  the  afternoon  of  December 
17.  That  evening  Ysaye,  the  Belgian  violinist,  and  I  ap 
peared  with  Anton  Seidl  and  his  orchestra,  this  being  the 
last  time  I  ever  had  the  opportunity  of  singing  with  that 
great  conductor.  I  sang  once  more  with  the  Boston 
Symphony  under  Emil  Paur  the  following  evening  before 
taking  a  train  for  Milwaukee,  where  I  appeared  in  "  The 
Messiah "  on  December  20.  Repeating  that  oratorio 
in  Chicago  on  December  21,  I  was  off  for  St.  Louis  for 
the  same  work  and  sang  there  December  22,  thence  back 
to  Chicago  again  for  "  The  Messiah  "  the  evening  after. 
Jumping  to  Nashville,  Tennessee,  I  took  part  there  on 
Christmas  Day  in  a  recital  of  songs,  returning  to  New 
York  for  "  The  Messiah  "  with  the  Oratorio  Society  at 
Carnegie  Hall  on  December  29  and  30,  and  sang  in 
Philadelphia  on  December  31  in  u  The  Flying  Dutch 
man  "  under  Mr.  Damrosch's  conducting. 

Seated  comfortably  at  breakfast,  audiences  of  a  pre 
vious  evening  read  the  accounts  of  the  music  they  have 
heard,  but  we  artists  are  not  enjoying  the  repose  which 
most  people  think  we  take  to  a  much  greater  extent  than 


222       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

themselves.  Far  from  it!  A  busy  vocalist  has  prob 
ably  taken  a  train  after  the  evening  performance,  trav 
eled  all  night,  been  obliged  to  get  up  in  the  early  morn 
ing,  make  a  hasty  toilet,  get  a  hurried  breakfast  at  the 
hotel,  and  attend  a  rehearsal  by  ten  o'clock  for  a  per 
formance  that  afternoon  or  evening.  After  which,  even 
if  a  night  in  bed  is  possible,  comes  a  call  at  five  or  -six 
o'clock  in  order  to  catch  a  train  at  seven  for  a  journey  all 
day  to  appear  in  another  city.  This  is  not  in  the  least 
uncommon;  yet  I  have  often  been  taunted  with  the  laxity 
of  my  life ;  with  the  late  hours  in  which  it  is  supposed  that 
I  indulge  myself,  and  with  the  comfortable  sleep  that  I 
am  believed  to  be  enjoying  in  the  lap  of  luxury  until  near 
noon.  Nay,  nay,  admiring  public ;  such  is  not  the  case ! 
The  singers  who  you  think  are  getting  fat  from  laziness 
are  in  all  probability  getting  fat  because  they  have  not 
time  enough  to  take  the  exercise  they  would  like,  or,  dur 
ing  the  time  they  might  be  exercising,  are  too  tired  to  in 
dulge  in  it,  but  have  to  go  to  bed  half  dead. 

The  last  opera  to  be  performed  in  Philadelphia  at  the 
close  of  a  repertory  which  included  the  whole  of  the 
Wagnerian  "  Niebelungen  Ring,"  was  Damrosch's  "  The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  in  which  Gadski  and  Kraus  were  ad 
mirable  as  Hester  and  Arthur  respectively  and  in  which 
I  reveled  in  the  disagreeable  but  interesting  character 
part  of  Chillingworth,  a  part  that  I  regret  not  having 
had  any  further  opportunity  to  perform,  as  this  interest 
ing  work  has  never,  to  my  knowledge,  been  revived. 

Mr.  Damrosch  tells  an  amusing  story  of  a  supper 
party  given  in  his  honor  by  those  who  participated  in 
"  The  Scarlet  Letter  "  after  the  occasion  of  a  previous 
presentation.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  the  artists  were 
foreigners  and  did  not  in  reality  understand  the  mean- 


BEETHOVEN  IN  DRAMA  223 


ing  of  the  words  they  were  singing  in  English,  or  they 
would  not,  with  considerable  ceremony  and  many  com 
plimentary  speeches,  have  presented  Mr.  Damrosch  with 
a  large  scarlet  letter  A  which  they  placed  upon  his  breast. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MY   NATIVE   TONGUE 

The  more  I  sang  in  foreign  tongues  the  more  I  loved  my  own. —  After 
De  Belloy. 

I  HAVE  ever  inveighed  against  the  custom,  so  happily 
on  the  wane,  which  for  so  long  obliged  us  English-speak 
ing  artists  to  sing  in  England  and  in  the  United  States 
in  the  languages,  French,  Italian,  or  German  of  our 
musical  confreres,  who  are  too  indolent,  to  say  the  least, 
to  learn  English.  In  Italy  the  audiences  desire  to  hear 
operas  sung  in  their  own  beautiful  accents.  Germany 
and  France  have  long  ago  broken  away  from  singing 
operas  in  Italian.  The  Germans  love  their  rich  but 
rough  tongue,  while  the  French  treat  their  exquisite 
language  with  the  highest  respect  and  the  government 
maintains  theatres  and  opera  houses,  where  French  only 
is  spoken  or  sung  and  where  it  must  be  enunciated  to  per 
fection.  In  England  and  America,  as  has  often  been 
pointed  out,  operatic  and  orchestral  music  has,  for  many 
decades,  been  imported.  It  took  a  long  time  for  the 
English  to  understand  that  their  own  people  were  able  to 
write  music  as  well  as  the  inhabitants  of  any  other  coun 
try.  Once  let  us  learn  the  art  and  encourage  the  practice 
of  it,  and  America  will  surely  realize  that  the  same  idea 
should  prevail  here. 

Though  I  have  studied  Italian,  French,  and  German 
and  have  sung  in  them  for  years,  I  cannot  be  said  to  be 
proficient  in  those  languages,  and  it  has  always  seemed 

224 


MY  NATIVE  TONGUE  225 

a  pity  that  we  should  be  obliged  to  sing  in  tongues  which 
we  can  only  partly  understand,  to  English  and  American 
audiences  who  do  not  understand  us  at  all.  There  is 
nothing  bad  in  English,  as  a  medium  for  song,  except  bad 
English. 

It  was  early  in  1898  that  the  Liza  Lehmann  song  cycle, 
"  In  a  Persian  Garden,"  the  words  selected  from  the  Ru- 
baiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam,  was  performed  in  New  York 
for  the  first  time  after  its  English  premiere,  from  the 
music  which  I  had  brought  from  London,  by  a  quartette 
consisting  of  Mrs.  Seabury  Ford,  soprano,  Marguerite 
Hall,  alto,  MacKenzie  Gordon,  tenor,  and  myself,  bass, 
under  the  direction  of  Victor  Harris,  who  presided  at 
the  piano.  The  entrancing  strains  of  this  exquisite  com 
position  were  frequently  rendered  by  us  during  that  and 
subsequent  seasons  and  were  taken  up  by  many  other 
quartettes  throughout  the  country,  and  it  soon  became 
widely  known,  individual  numbers  even  being  sung  in 
churches. 

The  season  following  it  was  revived  by  me  at  one  of 
my  concerts  in  London,  but,  whatever  the  reason,  it 
never  became  as  popular  in  its  native  land  as  in  the  United 
States,  notwithstanding  its  beautiful  and  thoroughly  in 
telligible  English. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  season  I  gave  a  concert  at 
Mendelssohn  Hall,  when  I  was  surprised  in  a  way  that 
I  had  not  thought  to  be  by  an  American  audience.  Hith 
erto,  though  singing  frequently  in  English,  I  had  yielded 
to  the  tastes  of  the  public  and  performed  in  other  lan 
guages.  But  on  this  occasion  my  recital  consisted  en 
tirely  of,  and  was  called,  "  Gems  of  Song  in  English," 
with  the  result  that  I  had  a  larger  and  more  enthusiastic 
audience  than  I  had  ever  had  before.  I  received  an  eye- 


226       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

opener  as  to  the  gradually  changing  tastes  of  the  public. 

So  great  was  the  success  of  this  concert  that  I  re 
peated  its  program  upon  various  occasions  elsewhere,  and 
continue  the  practice  of  singing  in  English  to  this  day,  un 
less  there  is  some  special  reason  for  doing  otherwise,  as 
in  the  rendering  of  the  cycles  of  songs  by  Schumann,  Schu 
bert,  or  Brahms  in  the  original  German,  rather  than  in 
an  indifferent  translation.  Yet  at  that  time,  when  sing 
ing  Brahms's  "  Four  Serious  Songs,"  I  remember  being 
taken  to  task  by  some  one  who  wanted  to  know  why  I  did 
not  sing  them  "  in  the  original  German."  My  reply  was 
that  I  considered  the  words  of  the  Scripture  to  be  suf 
ficiently  original  for  English-speaking  people,  and  that 
we  did  not  need  a  German  translation  for  what  was  our 
daily  bread,  or  ought  to  be. 

Of  course,  I  was  rapidly  making  acquaintance  with 
American  musicians.  Among  these  was  the  talented 
young  composer,  Henry  Hadley,  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  many  engagements  and  many  of  whose  earlier  songs 
I  helped  to  bring  out.  I  sang  the  clever  reconstruction 
made  by  Henry  Holden  Huss  from  the  memoranda 
Beethoven  had  made  for  a  setting  of  "  The  Erl  King," 
and  also  Huss's  musical  setting  for  "  The  Seven  Ages 
of  Man,"  which  I  first  gave  in  1898  in  America,  later 
in  London,  and  which  I  continue  to  sing  to  the  present 
time. 

After  the  opera  I  had  a  busy  and  interesting  season  of 
concert  engagements  at  various  music  centers,  including 
the  festival  in  Indianapolis  under  Van  der  Stucken,  and 
at  Ann  Arbor,  Michigan,  under  Professor  Albert  A.  Stan 
ley  of  the  University  of  Michigan,  who  has  been  one  of 
the  great  forces  in  music  in  America  for  the  past  twenty- 


MY  NATIVE  TONGUE  227 

five  years.  Nearly  all  the  principals  at  the  festival  were 
Americans,  with  the  exception  of  a  man  whom  I  had 
never  thought  to  be  associated  with,  it  had  been  so  long 
since  I,  as  a  youth,  had  seen  him  in  his  prime  upon  the 
operatic  stage.  I  refer  to  the  Italian  barytone,  Signer 
Giuseppe  Del  Puente;  he  sang  that  year  in  Verdi's 
"  Manzoni "  Requiem  Mass.  Though  his  voice  was 
diminishing  in  volume,  his  art  was  still  supreme.  Del 
Puente  had  been  living  and  teaching  in  Philadelphia, 
where  I  had  met  him  shortly  before.  I  remember  him 
running  to  compliment  me  in  the  old-fashioned,  spacious, 
portrait-hung  greenroom  of  the  Academy  of  Music,  as 
I  came  off  the  stage  after  singing  in  some  opera.  "  Ah," 
he  said,  "  you  move  your  tongue  in  just  the  right  way;  I 
can  see  everything  he  do." 

This  was  a  curious  sidelight  upon  his  vocal  methods. 
I  had  always  admired  Del  Puente's  luscious  tones,  never 
thinking  of  how  he  made  them.  He  seems  to  have 
thought  that  the  tongue  should  stand  up  at  the  end  while 
I  had  been  taught  it  should  lie  flat  in  the  mouth.  If  my 
tongue  was  unduly  prominent  it  was  from  accident  rather 
than  design;  according  to  Del  Puente's  method  I  should 
have  intentionally  let  the  audience  see  it  at  work.  Each 
vocal  teacher  has  his  own  ideas  and  becomes  set  in  his 
ways,  perhaps  thinking  that  similar  methods  will  bring 
forth  equally  good  results  with  his  pupils.  Of  this  I  am 
not  at  all  persuaded.  Any  means  to  a  vocal  end  should 
be  concealed  as  far  as  possible  from  the  public.  It  is, 
however,  difficult  in  singing  either  to  practice  what  we 
preach,  or  to  preach  what  we  practice.  The  proof  of 
t-he  vocal  pudding,  however,  is  in  the  hearing;  what  is 
really  good  to  hear  has  been  properly  produced,  and 


228       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

vice  versa.  What  is  not  agreeable  is  either  not  naturally 
good,  or,  whatever  the  care  spent  upon  it,  has  been  in 
jured  in  the  making.  More  likely  than  not  too  many 
cooks  have  helped  to  spoil  the  broth. 

The  most  important  festival  of  1898  was  that  of  Cin 
cinnati,  where  for  the  first  time  I  sang  under  Theodore 
Thomas,  whom  I  had  admired  from  boyhood.  Though 
he  did  not  know  me,  it  so  happened  that  I  had  the  lion's 
share  and  opened  with  Berlioz's  "  Damnation  of  Faust." 
The  following  afternoon  and  evening  were  miscellaneous 
concerts  with  symphonic  music  by  Mozart,  Beethoven, 
Franck,  Brahms,  Weber,  and  Dvorak,  vocal  numbers 
from  Handel,  Weber,  Schubert,  Wagner,  and  Liszt,  and 
choral  work  by  Bach  and  Grieg.  The  fourth  concert  was 
devoted  entirely  to  Beethoven,  Symphony  No.  5  and  the 
u  Missa  Solemnis."  The  fifth  concert  entirely  to  Schu 
mann  :  the  Fourth  Symphony  and  his  choral  work,  "  Para 
dise  and  the  Peri."  The  sixth  concert  consisted  of  sym 
phonic  and  vocal  music  of  modern  composers,  Brahms, 
Marschner,  Rimsky  Korsakoff,  Dvorak,  Smetana,  Ber 
lioz,  Ponchielli,  Saint-Saens,  Boito,  and  Hugo  Kaun,  the 
American.  The  final  concert  was  entirely  Wagnerian, 
with  copious  selections  from  <c  The  Flying  Dutchman  " 
and  "  Parsifal." 

This  thirteenth  biennial  festival  afforded  as  fine  a 
feast  of  sound  as  any  one  could  wish  to  hear,  carried 
out  under  one  of  the  world's  ablest  conductors,  who  had 
under  his  baton  a  superb  orchestra  of  his  own  choosing 
and  a  chorus  which  had  behind  it  many  years  of  work 
and  a  great  reputation,  which  it  nobly  supported  at  his 
command.  Again  were  the  principals  all  Americans, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Scottish  soprano  Miss  Mac- 


MY  NATIVE  TONGUE  229 

Intyre  and  the  tenor  Ben  Davies,  with  whom  I  had  been 
so  frequently  associated  in  opera  in  England.  With  that 
festival  ended  my  second  American  season,  which  in  the 
total  amounted  to  108  appearances. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

ENTER   DANNY   DEEVER 

If  a  man  were  permitted  to  make  all  the  ballads,  he  need  not  care  who 
should  make  the  laws  of  a  nation. —  Andrew  Fletcher. 

TOWARD  the  end  of  1897  Walter  Damrosch  had  been 
devoting  his  attention  to  the  composition  of  a  few  songs 
and  among  others  produced  admirable  settings  of  Rud- 
yard  Kipling's  "  Mandalay "  and  "  Danny  Deever." 
When  I  first  sang  the  latter  at  the  Academy  of  Music  in 
Philadelphia,  December  n,  at  a  concert  of  the  Orpheus 
Club,  I  had  no  idea  that  it  would  soon  become  famous 
throughout  the  United  States.  The  ballad  had  already 
been  set  to  music  several  times,  though  the  compositions 
authorized  by  Mr.  Kipling  in  England  were  not  known 
in  artistic  circles,  but  were  sung  only  by  Tommy  At 
kins  at  large.  In  America  Richard  Harding  Davis, 
who  by  the  way  was  a  kinsman  of  mine  on  his  mother's 
side,  conceived  a  good  straightforward  tune  which  was 
sung  by  the  students  at  Princeton,  and  I  first  made  its 
acquaintance  through  the  splendid  bass  voice  of  my  friend 
Booth  Tarkington,  who  trolled  it  out  with  fine  effect.  It 
was  not  long,  however,  until  all  rival  compositions  gave 
way  before  the  virility  of  Mr.  Damrosch's  conception  of 
the  piece. 

When  Kipling  visited  New  York  in  1899  I  met  him 
at  an  evening  reception  given  in  his  honor  at  the  house 
of  the  editor-poet,  Richard  Watson  Gilder.  Though  it 
was  not  a  musical  party,  toward  the  close  of  the  evening 

230 


ENTER  DANNY  DEEVER  231 

I  was  requested  to  sing  "  Danny  Deever,"  by  that  time 
famous  everywhere.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  song  Kip 
ling  rose,  hastily  said  good-by  to  his  hostess,  and  left 
the  room,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one  present,  who  wished 
to  congratulate  him  on  the  power  of  his  text.  After  re 
covering  from  the  attack  of  pneumonia  brought  on  that 
very  night  through  leaving  the  hot  drawing-room  for  the 
snowstorm  outside,  he  returned  to  England. 

The  next  spring  I  had  a  visit  from  a  gentleman  who 
called  ceremoniously  and  politely  informed  me  that  his 
friend  Kipling,  who  was  in  the  country,  sent  me  his 
apologies  and  regrets  for  what  I  might  have  thought 
rudeness  in  leaving  the  room  so  suddenly  after  my  singing 
of  his  "  Danny  Deever  "  in  New  York  the  winter  before; 
but  Mr.  Kipling  would  like  me  to  know  that  he  had  been 
so  powerfully  affected  by  my  rendering  of  the  ballad  that 
he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak  and  had  to  say  good 
night  as  quickly  as  possible.  Here  was  indeed  the 
amende  honorable. 

The  public  performer  is  rarely  left  to  take  his  leisure 
peacefully;  where  it  is  known  he  can  sing,  it  is  thought 
by  the  public  that  he  ought  to  sing;  and,  if  he  does  not 
want  to  sing,  that  he  should  be  made  to  sing.  When  I 
was  requested  to  sing  u  Danny  Deever  "  once  at  a  concert 
on  shipboard  I  had  difficulty  in  getting  out  of  appear 
ing,  but  with  the  legitimate  excuse  of  a  cold  I  was  at  last 
allowed  to  remain  out  of  the  bill. 

As  I  sat  in  the  barber's  chair  on  the  morning  of  the 
concert,  the  voluble  tonsorial  artist  spoke  of  the  enter 
tainment  as  he  shaved  me  and  hoped  I  would  reconsider 
my  decision  not  to  sing.  He  would  not  be  satisfied  with 
out  an  explanation  of  my  refusal,  as  he  had  heard  me 
before.  I  told  him  of  my  heavy  season  in  America  and 


232       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

that  I  needed  rest  on  the  sea.  "  I  can  understand  that," 
he  replied  sympathetically.  "  It  is  just  the  same  with 
me,  sir.  I  never  look  at  a  razor  when  I  am  ashore." 

There  was  a  notable  company  aboard  and  a  superb  con 
cert  resulted,  some  of  the  celebrities  being  Melba,  Nor- 
dica,  Jean  de  Reszke,  Plangon,  Sarah  Bernhardt,  and 
Coquelin.  While  I  did  not  sing,  I  disposed  of  a  large 
number  of  tickets;  and,  having  had  several  programs  au 
tographed  by  the  principal  artists,  I  sold  these  at  auction 
during  the  intermission  in  the  concert,  securing  $800  for 
the  benefit  of  the  Sailors'  Home.  Upon  reaching  the 
smoking  room  after  the  concert  I  was  accosted  by  a  pas 
senger  who  complimented  me  upon  my  efforts,  saying,  as 
he  drew  his  business  card  from  his  pocket,  "  I  am  a 
New  York  auctioneer.  Whenever  your  voice  gives  out 
just  let  me  know  and  I'll  give  you  a  job  for  ten  thousand 
dollars  a  year  to  sell  our  stuff." 

It  is  not  always  that  incidents  are  amusing,  and  public 
performers  are  often  looked  down  upon.  Early  in  the 
year  1898,  when  the  Ellis-Damrosch  Company  was  play 
ing  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  which  also  con 
tains  apartments,  one  of  which  I  was  then  occupying,  I 
had  a  sharp  attack  of  my  old  enemy,  lumbago.  We  on 
the  stage  are  like  soldiers  and  must  do  our  duty  regard 
less  of  personal  inconvenience.  The  audience  has  noth 
ing  to  do  with  our  maladies,  physical  or  mental,  but  un 
fortunately,  one  of  these  attacks  came  upon  me  in  the 
midst  of  a  busy  time.  I  had  to  sing  at  several  perform 
ances  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  to  give  one  of 
my  own  concerts  at  Mendelssohn  Hall,  to  take  part  in 
"The  Messiah"  in  another  city  —  and  I  could  scarcely 
get  out  of  bed !  I  sent  a  telegram  the  day  before  to  the 
oratorio  committee  telling  them  of  my  plight  and  that  I 


ENTER  DANNY  DEEVER  233 

had  at  my  own  expense  engaged  an  admirable  artist  to 
take  my  place  in  the  oratorio. 

As  I  was  preparing  to  take  my  painful  ease,  I  received 
an  urgent  message  from  Mr.  Damrosch,  who  knew  that 
I  was  ill,  asking  me,  if  it  were  possible,  to  dress,  wrap  up 
warmly,  come  down  in  the  elevator,  and  step  inside  of 
the  opera  house,  it  being  only  a  few  yards  from  my  door 
to  that  of  the  theatre.  When  I  arrived  I  hobbled,  sup 
ported  by  a  friend  and  nearly  bent  double,  to  the  stage, 
where  a  chair  awaited  me,  and  an  overcoat  and  rug  pro 
tected  me  from  the  draught. 

As  I  sat  there  humming  through  my  part,  I  noticed  two 
strangers  standing  near  the  wings.  When  my  work  was 
done  one  of  these  introduced  himself  as  one  of  the  com 
mittee  of  the  oratorio  society  who  had  come  to  see  if 
I  was  able  to  keep  my  engagement.  I  rose  from  my 
chair  with  difficulty  and  explained  the  plight  in  which  I 
found  myself.  He  agreed  with  me  and  with  the  friend 
who  had  come  with  him,  that  I  could  not  be  expected  to 
travel,  go  through  a  difficult  performance,  and  return  the 
following  day  in  time  for  "  The  Flying  Dutchman  "  in 
New  York.  They  bade  me  good-by,  saying  that  they 
would  explain  the  matter  to  their  committee.  My 
visitors,  however,  upon  reaching  their  home  reported  that 
they  found  me  busily  rehearsing  upon  the  stage  and 
seemingly  in  perfect  health,  and  the  committee  refused 
to  permit  my  substitute  to  sing  in  my  place. 

I  thus  found  myself  a  victim  of  the  caprice  of  my 
friends.  I  was  severely  censured  in  the  newspapers  and 
for  some  time  was  made  to  feel  the  disapproval  of  the 
public,  who  doubtless  thought  that  here  was  merely  an 
other  example  of  the  idiosyncrasy  of  a  spoiled  artist. 

During  a  visit  to   the   Pacific  Coast  I   attended  the 


234       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Chinese  Theatre  in  San  Francisco  and  once  was  taken 
behind  the  stage  after  the  performance  to  see  where  the 
actors  lived  in  cellars  even  two  and  three  stories  below 
the  ground.  Here  these  men  smoke  their  pipes,  say  their 
prayers,  burn  their  joss  sticks,  and  study  their  enormously 
lengthy  parts.  They  act  every  night  in  plays  which  it 
sometimes  takes  weeks  to  finish,  and  fine  actors  many  of 
them  are,  among  the  best  I  have  ever  seen.  Asking 
when  these  artists  took  their  exercise,  I  was  informed 
that  they  went  out  only  at  night.  When  I  voiced  my 
surprise,  I  was  told  that  they  dare  not  go  abroad  in  the 
daytime,  for  they  would  be  insulted  by  the  populace,  mal 
treated,  beaten,  stoned,  and  driven  back  to  the  burrows 
of  their  theatre,  where  the  audience  thought  they  be 
longed  and  nowhere  else. 

Thus  we  have  up  to  the  present  day  a  continuance  of 
the  hostile  attitude  toward  our  craft  inherited  from 
the  older  times,  when  the  actor  had  no  rights,  could 
not  be  married  or  buried  by  the  clergy;  but  remained  a 
vagabond,  alive  or  dead,  and  was  legally  so  termed.  A 
strolling  player,  because  forbidden  to  settle  down  any 
where,  was  obliged  to  keep  going,  no  matter  what  his 
talents,  no  matter  how  much  he  contributed  to  the  joy 
of  his  audiences  or,  in  later  years,  to  the  education  of 
the  public. 

I  believe,  disagreeable  as  many  aspects  of  life  upon 
the  stage  are  supposed  to  be,  that  the  personnel  of  the 
dramatic  and  operatic  profession  to-day  is  far  superior 
in  morale  and  in  morality  to  what  it  ever  was  before. 
For  generations  in  England  a  stage  career  was  consid 
ered  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman,  and  the  great 
Lord  Chesterfield  was  evidently  trying  to  save  his  son 
from  such  a  fate,  when  he  said,  "  If  you  wish  to  hear 


ENTER  DANNY  DEEVER  235 

music,  by  all  means  pay  a  fiddler  to  fiddle  for  you,  but 
by  no  means  fiddle  yourself."  I  cannot  insist  too  strongly 
that  the  stage  is  no  more  dangerous  an  occupation  than 
any  other,  and  the  sooner  the  public  gets  over  such  an 
idea  the  better  it  will  be  for  stage  and  public.  In  the 
freer  life  of  these  days,  young  men  and  women  of  good 
family  and  excellent  education  are  quite  properly  seeking 
the  dramatic  or  musical  field  of  endeavor  as  a  means  of 
livelihood  and  as  an  outlet  to  natural  impulses  which  are 
not  to  be  denied.  Every  one  likes  to  make  a  speech,  to 
hold  forth  in  a  recitation,  to  act,  to  sing,  to  give  vent  to 
artistic  emotions,  and  those  sufficiently  gifted  may  thus 
be  led  to  take  up  music  arid  the  drama  as  their  work  in 
life. 

Notwithstanding  this  it  is  my  invariable  custom  to 
counsel  my  pupils  or  those  who  seek  my  advice  not  to  give 
up  any  other  pursuit  by  which  they  make  their  living  in 
order  to  follow  music  as  a  profession,  unless  they  possess 
the  necessary  gift  in  an  unusual  degree,  and  not  to  take  to 
the  stage  even  then  unless  after  the  most  careful  consid 
eration,  serious  preparation,  and  intensive  training  of  all 
the  faculties  needed  in  their  occupation,  they  find  their 
fitness  beyond  doubt,  the  call  for  their  services  undeniable, 
and  their  prospects  more  than  ordinarily  good. 

Almost  immediately  upon  my  arrival  in  London  I  gave 
at  St.  James's  Hall  one  of  my  own  concerts,  opening 
with  songs  by  Schubert,  and  closing  with  a  group  by 
Schumann  which  had  been  written  to  words  by  the  Eng 
lish  poets,  Burns,  Moore,  Byron,  -and  Shakespeare,  which, 
of  course,  I  sang  in  the  original.  Among  other  in 
teresting  features  then  brought  forward  I  introduced  a 
group  of  songs  by  Americans,  Harry  Rowe  Shelley,  Clay 
ton  Johns,  and  Walter  Damrosch.  This  was  the  intro- 


236       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

duction  into  England  of  Mr.  Damrosch's  song,  the  newly 
popular  "  Danny  Deever,"  but,  owing  to  the  strict  copy 
right  on  this  poem,  I  was  unable  to  print  the  words  in 
my  book  of  words.  Kipling's  prohibition  of  the  use  of 
his  ballad,  even  in  the  printed  copy  of  music  as  it  ap 
peared  in  England,  left  it  another  "  Song  without  words." 

That  summer  I  rested  for  a  while  in  a  little  old-fash 
ioned  place  which  was  many  centuries  old  and  which 
I  had  rented  from  an  ancient  Gloucestershire  family  on 
whose  estate  had  stood  Fair  Rosamund's  Bower.  My 
cottage,  so  called,  a  substantial  structure  of  beautifully 
carved  stone,  might  have  been  the  bower  of  the  Fair 
Rosamund  herself  and  the  place  where  the  King  visited 
her.  At  any  rate  it  is  said  there  were  ghosts  in  the  house, 
and  sure  it  is  that  from  the  cellarage  a  subterranean  pas 
sage  extended  for  two  or  three  miles  to  another  and  more 
considerable  ancient  dwelling.  While  I  enjoyed  this 
rural  pleasaunce,  I  could  not  keep  long  away  from  the 
metropolis,  and  soon  I  repeated,  at  a  theatre  I  took  for 
the  purpose,  my  Beethoven  performances,  supported 
again  by  Miss  Julie  Opp,  the  program  being  enriched  by 
a  first  part  of  Beethoven's  music  in  which  I  was  assisted 
by  Miss  Fanny  Davies,  Johannes  Wolf,  Hollman,  and 
others;  and  last,  but  not  least,  by  Madame  Blanche  Mar- 
chesi,  daughter  of  the  famous  Parisian  vocal  teacher. 

Of  course  my  association  with  persons  of  distinction  in 
the  artistic  world  was  of  great  interest  to  me,  but  after 
all,  the  most  enjoyable  evenings  of  my  recollection  were 
those  so  often  spent  in  the  hospitable  home  of  William 
Shakespeare,  the  great  singing  teacher  and  my  very  good 
friend.  His  soirees  were  exemplars  of  what  musical 
evenings  should  be.  He  had  among  his  intimates  some 
of  the  finest  artists  of  the  day,  and  though  he  never  im- 


ENTER  DANNY  DEEVER  237 

posed  upon  them  in  return  for  the  many  favors  he  and 
his  good  wife  had  rendered  them,  they  were  only  too 
willing  to  be  associated  with  anything  he  might  suggest 
in  the  way  of  entertainment  of  his  friends,  as  held  in  that 
modest  drawing-room  at  No.  14,  Mansfield  Street.  To 
this  house  many  noted  people  resorted,  glad  to  partake 
of  the  generous  cheer  always  to  be  found  at  the  hands 
of  their  jolly  host  of  the  great  name  and  remarkable  like 
ness  to  the  poet-dramatist. 

How  often  have  I  not  heard  in  such  intimate  surround 
ings  the  greatest  artists  of  Europe  playing  or  singing  in 
those  rooms,  where,  be  it  said,  they  always  arrived  early 
and  never  left  until  correspondingly  early  in  the  wee 
sma'  hours  of  the  following  morning! 

On  one  of  these  occasions  some  of  the  noblest  cham 
ber  music  had  been  played  in  the  most  inspiring  manner 
by  Joachim  and  his  quartette.  At  the  close  of  the  con 
cert,  as  the  guests  were  listening  to  the  dying  strains  so 
perfectly  rendered  in  surroundings  the  most  sympathetic, 
the  grandfather's  clock  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  struck 
twelve.  Even  this  was  in  tune  with  the  circumstances, 
and  not  only  in  tune  but  in  rhythm,  for  as  the  four  last 
majestic  bars  were  played  in  three-four  time  the  clock 
joined  its  voice  to  those  of  the  instruments  and  in  perfect 
unison  and  harmony  brought  to  an  end  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  musical  seances  imaginable. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

WHERE    ANGELS    FEAR 

Nothing  so  difficult  as  a  beginning, 
.  .  .  unless  perhaps  the  end. —  Byron. 

THE  musical  man  in  the  street  on  New  York's  Great 
White  Way  and  he  who  attends  the  opera,  and  the  musi 
cal  woman  in  the  street,  she  who  attends  the  concert, 
probably  give  little  thought  to  the  preparation  of  the 
entertainments  they  so  enjoy.  Even  performers  them 
selves  fail  to  realize  what  must  be  done  before  a  concert 
can  be  given;  and  a  concert  is  the  easiest  kind  of  enter 
tainment  to  provide. 

A  small  percentage  only  of  those  who  set  forth  upon 
a  public  career  ever  get  far.  If  by  reason  of  strength 
and  talent  and  a  combination  of  favorable  circumstances, 
a  few  out  of  the  great  number  who  try  are  able  to  con 
tinue  on  a  long  and  honorable  career,  their  strength  is 
often  but  labor  and  sorrow. 

I  must  admit  that  the  labor  is  pleasurable  and  that,  as 
God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,  so  does  He 
assuage  with  the  joys  of  success  the  bitterness  of  the 
struggle  made  to  attain  it. 

The  few  that  win  out  attain  their  positions  by  hard 
work  alone,  bringing  into  subjection  material  already 
more  than  ordinarily  good,  for  only  too  often  the  most 
musical  are  not  blessed  with  voices  of  paramount  beauty, 
and  those  who  have  fine  voices  are  often  not  gifted  with 
musical  temperaments.  Lack  of  studiousness  is  a  com 
mon  thing,  and  all  who  teach  should  make  plain  to  their 

238 


WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  239 

pupils  the  enormous  amount  that  must  be  learned,  from 
which,  after  all,  only  a  small  part  may  be  retained  as  one's 
habitual  working  material.  The  voice  must  be  fine,  the 
ear  must  be  good,  the  mind  must  be  sound,  the  body  must 
be  healthy,  the  spirit  must  be  indomitable,  and  fair  mu 
sicianship  is  an  absolute  necessity.  But  while  all  these 
things  may  coincide  in  the  persons  of  a  few,  opportunity 
may  not  offer  itself  or,  if  it  does,  may  not  be  seized. 
One's  clients  must  be  convinced  before  an  engagement 
can  be  arranged  even  for  a  single  concert.  How  much 
more  difficult  is  it  to  appeal  for  a  year's  work  to  the  or 
ganists  of  churches  and  their  music  committees,  or  to  the 
conductors  of  oratorio  societies  and  their  boards  of  di 
rectors  for  high-class  engagements!  Should  the  young 
man  or  woman  possess  such  qualities  in  fair  proportion 
and  in  such  favorable  combination  as  to  attract  the  man 
ager  of  artistic  opera,  then  how  far  from  probable  is  it 
that  these  talented  individuals  have  given  any  thought 
to  languages  or  to  the  art  of  acting? 

To  be  reasonably  at  home  in  the  concert  room  or  on 
the  oratorio  platform  is  one  thing,  but  to  create  an  im 
pression  upon  the  operatic  stage  is  quite  another.  A 
reputation  made  before  the  concert-loving  public  may  eas 
ily  be  lost  in  a  night  by  one  who  has  been  unwisely  at 
tracted  by  the  glare  of  the  footlights,  the  glimmer  of  the 
golden  horseshoe,  the  far-resounding  fame  of  the  tenors 
and  prima  donnas.  Few  realize  that  these  artists,  after 
every  imaginable  obstacle  has  been  overcome,  find  them 
selves  in  a  position  of  such  eminence  that  they  are  in  mo 
mentary  fear  of  dethronement  by  new  rivals  and  com 
pelled  to  curry  favor  with  press  and  public,  day  and  night, 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  in  order  to  maintain  their 
hard-won  position. 


240       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Even  though  there  are  more  schools  of  music  and  op 
portunities  are  more  numerous,  musical  competition  is 
consequently  much  keener.  In  spite  of  this,  the  Ameri 
can  student  does  not  yet  realize  the  importance  of  early 
and  careful  preparation  for  a  career  so  arduous  as  the  one 
I  have  been  sketching.  Those  who  engage  musical  tal 
ent  do  so  with  their  eyes,  and  particularly  their  ears, 
wide  open,  and  after  long  and  careful  thought  secure  the 
services  of  those  only  who,  in  their  opinion,  will  attract 
and  continue  to  please  their  audiences. 

We  often  hear  of  vocalists  as  being  wedded  to  their 
art;  but  in  such  musical,  as  in  human,  unions  there  is  many 
a  mistake  made.  Years,  that  should  have  been  those  of 
preparation,  have  been  wasted.  Then  after  an  elope 
ment  with  the  Muse,  comes  the  bitter  sense  of  error. 
Then  the  Muse,  unsatisfied,  breaks  away  to  leave  her 
whilom  partner  sadly  musing  upon  the  caprice  of  Art, 
never  realizing  that  the  so-called  artist  is  the  capricious 
one.  Art  is  the  ever  fixed  pole,  immutable  and  undying. 
It  is  we  miserable  pygmies,  philanderers  with  her  majestic 
form,  who  are  to  blame.  Then  let  all  take  heed,  nor 
contract  an  alliance  with  one  of  the  immortals  un- 
advisably. 

During  my  career  as  a  singer  I  have  marked  the  growth 
of  interest  in  musical  art  in  colleges,  both  for  men  and 
for  women,  and  in  universities  throughout  the  country, 
where  music  is  now  a  recognized  part  of  the  curriculum 
for  anybody  to  study  it  who  will  if  he  has  the  requisite 
ability.  Apart  from  annual  festivals  at  many  institu 
tions  of  learning  there  are  musical  functions  at  frequent 
intervals  throughout  the  whole  of  the  collegiate  year. 
At  many  of  these  I  have  been  privileged  to  assist. 

Upon  returning  to  New  York  in  the  autumn  of  1898, 


WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  241 

I  found  a  number  of  such  engagements  which  had,  of 
course,  been  secured  by  my  manager  months  in  advance. 
I  opened  at  Vassar  College,  following  with  Oberlin  and 
Wells,  and  sang  also  at  Bryn  Mawr  and  at  my  own  be 
loved  Haverford.  To  all  these  I  have  often  been  asked 
to  return,  thus  assisting  in  keeping  the  flame  alight,  not 
only  at  those  named  but  at  many  other  places  where 
music  is  being  appreciated  throughout  the  United  States. 
My  college  programs  were  always  constructed  with  a 
view  not  only  to  the  art  of  music  but  for  its  educational 
influence,  and  included  selections  from  the  works  of  Ger 
man  and  Italian  masters  of  olden  times;  selections  from 
operas  nowadays  infrequently  heard;  examples  of  the 
French  school  and  of  English  lyric  grace  at  its  best,  and 
the  folk  songs  of  all  nations,  not  overlooking  modern 
tendencies  nor  American  composers  and  their  work. 

After  a  dozen  such  appearances,  I  joined  the  Maurice 
Grau  Opera  Company  which  opened  in  November,  1898, 
in  Chicago  with  a  splendid  roster  of  artists  at  the  Audi 
torium  Theatre,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  opera  houses 
in  the  world  and,  considering  its  vast  size,  one  possessed 
of  acoustic  properties  of  an* extraordinary  character.  It 
was  there  that  Ernest  Van  Dyck,  the  Belgian  tenor,  made 
his  first  appearance  in  America  as  Tannhauser,  supported 
by  Madame  Eames  as  Elizabeth,  Miss  Olga  Pevny  as 
Venus,  myself  as  Wolfram,  and  Plangon  as  the  Land 
grave,  with  Schalk  as  conductor. 

Little  did  I  think,  when  years  before  I  saw  Van  Dyck 
lose  his  wig  in  the  second  act  of  "  Parsifal  "  at  Bayreuth, 
that  I  should  take  supper  with  that  bald-headed  gentle 
man  that  very  night,  and  that  time  held  in  store  for  me 
many  an  operatic  thrill  at  closer  quarters,  after  a  lapse 
of  years.  But  it  had  so  happened,  in  the  enchant- 


242       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ment  scene  in  the  lovely  garden  of  Klingsor's  castle,  while 
Kundry,  in  the  person  of  Madame  Materna,  was  exercis 
ing  her  blandishments  upon  the  youthful  and  unsophis 
ticated  Parsifal,  that  Van  Dyck,  starting  from  the  ma 
ternal  embrace  of  the  enchantress,  stepped  a  few  inches 
further  back  than  was  necessary  and  a  lock  of  the  fair 
hair  of  his  wig  caught  in  the  branches  of  the  magic  wood 
which  had  enclosed  the  couple  with  its  alluring  charm. 
At  that  moment  a  change  of  scene  took  place;  the  tangled 
leaves  and  tendrils  of  the  verdant  coppice  began  to  arise, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  spellbound  audience  gently 
lifted  the  covering  from  the  shining  poll  of  Parsifal. 
With  the  spring  of  a  cat  the  guileless  one  leaped  into 
the  air  and  tore  down  the  rapidly  rising  wig,  which  fell 
upon  the  stage  at  his  feet.  Before  he  could  adjust  the 
peruke  upon  his  head  Kundry  had  ceased  singing  and 
Parsifal's  reply  was  forthcoming. 

Through  my  opera  glasses  I  could  see  the  great  beads 
of  sweat  start  out  upon  Van  Dyck's  head,  neck,  and  bare 
arms,  as  in  an  agony  of  rage  and  of  frenzied  embar 
rassment,  he  put  the  wig  on  his  head  —  wrong  side  be 
fore  !  As  his  back  was  to  the  audience,  his  baldness  was 
all  the  more  apparent.  When  he  turned  to  face  the 
footlights,  the  audience  was  not  only  amazed  but  amused 
to  see  the  smooth  face  of  the  man  covered  with  what 
seemed  to  be  a  long  full  beard.  Everybody  burst  into  a 
ripple  of  mirth  as  unfortunate  as  it  was  uncontrollable. 
As  Parsifal  went  on  with  the  scene,  he  reclined  again  by 
the  side  of  Kundry  who,  with  admirable  presence  of  mind, 
stroked  Van  Dyck's  forehead,  parting  the  hair  from  his 
faCe  on  either  side  in  order  that  he  might  give  expression 
to  his  vocal  raptures.  A  few  moments  later  in  the  scene 


WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  243 

Materna  had  a  considerable  passage  to  sing  alone,  when 
Van  Dyck  took  advantage  of  this  and  left  the  stage  in 
order  to  put  his  wig  on  properly;  but,  in  his  haste,  he 
tore  it  off  his  head  before  he  got  out  of  sight  of  the  audi 
ence,  and  this  time  there  was  not  merely  a  ripple  but  a 
loud  roar  of  laughter.  It  would  have  spoiled  the  scene 
for  any  singers  other  than  two  such  consummate  artists  as 
Van  Dyck  and  Materna. 

On  the  evening  of  November  7,  1898,  at  the  Audito 
rium  in  Chicago,  the  American  public  first  saw  the  name 
of  Ernestine  Schumann-Heink,  which  has  come  to  mean 
so  much  in  the  musical  annals  of  the  United  States.  As 
Ortrud  in  "  Lohengrin,"  she  made  an  immediate  success 
which  was  at  once  recognized  by  her  impresario  and  the 
public.  I  am  proud  to  have  been  associated,  in  a  cast  in 
cluding  Andreas  Dippel  and  Madame  Eames,  with  one 
who  since  that  night  has  become  one  of  the  greatest  fig 
ures  of  contemporary  musical  annals. 

A  few  nights  before,  upon  emerging  warm  from  work 
into  a  cold  wind  from  Lake  Michigan,  I  had  caught  a 
cold  which  was  beginning  to  lay  me  low.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  did  not  sing  again  for  about  a  month,  for  upon 
the  urgent  advice  of  my  doctor  I  immediately  took  train 
for  Philadelphia,  where  I  could  be  near  my  own  people 
in  case  of  an  unfavorable  turn  in  my  malady,  which 
proved  to  be  a  sharp  attack  of  influenza. 

I  had  never  before  been  near  death,  but  now  I  was 
told  by  my  physician  that  I  must  look  the  possible  conse 
quences  in  the  face.  As  I  lay  there  I  thought  of  Brown 
ing's  u  Prospice,"  the  words  of  which  I  had  sung  so  often 
to  Stanford's  music,  and  repeated  the  powerful  lines : 
"  Fear  death?  To  feel  the  fog  in  my  throat!  .  .  .  Yet 


244       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  strong  man  must  go !  ...  I  was  ever  a  fighter,  so 
one  fight  more,  the  best  and  the  last." 

I  lay  quietly,  seeking  strength  to  continue  the  silent 
struggle,  alone  then  as  I  had  been  in  all  the  struggles  of 
my  artistic  life.  Fortunately  I  pulled  through,  with  no 
body  any  the  wiser.  For  I  do  not  believe  in  emulating 
the  example  of  those  of  my  confreres  who  advertise  their 
disabilities,  when  their  abilities  alone  ought  to  be  per 
mitted  to  speak.  I  could  never  endure  managerial  apol 
ogies  for  an  artist,  from  the  days  I  first  heard  them  be 
fore  the  curtain  at  the  opera  when  I  was  a  young  fellow, 
as  some  one  stepped  out  to  ask  public  indulgence  for 
Madame  So-and-so,  who  was  suffering  from  a  severe 
sore  throat,  but  who  presently  appeared  singing  as  well  as 
she  ever  did. 

My  code  is  that  if  an  artist  makes  an  engagement  it 
is  his  duty  to  try  to  fill  it,  whether  he  is  well  or  ill.  It 
often  happens  that  though  one  may  not  be  feeling  in  the 
best  of  voice,  the  effort  to  pull  oneself  together  is  the  very 
thing  that  overcomes  one's  difficulties,  perhaps  to  learn 
that  he  never  sang  better  before;  though  as  a  matter  of 
fact  he  was  far  from  doing  so,  but  was  acting  as  becomes 
a  man,  and  trying  to  do  his  best  to  satisfy  his  public. 

The  repertory  of  operas  performed  that  year  was  large, 
including  "  The  Flying  Dutchman,"  "  Lohengrin," 
"  Tannhauser,"  "  Tristan  und  Isolde,"  and  the  four  sec 
tions  of  "  The  Ring."  Besides  the  artists  of  whom  I 
have  already  spoken  there  were  Madame  Nordica,  Jean 
and  Edouard  de  Reszke,  and  Miss  Meisslinger.  Early 
in  1899,  Mesdames  Calve  and  Sembrich,  Mr.  Salignac, 
the  superb-voiced  Anton  Van  Rooy,  and  Madame  Lilli 
Lehmann  came  to  add  the  distinction  of  their  presence  to 


WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  245 

a  company  already  as  notable  as  any  brought  to  New 
York  in  years. 

My  own  season  comprised  about  a  hundred  appear 
ances  divided  almost  equally  between  opera  and  concert. 
In  regard  to  the  latter  I  always  stipulated  that  I  was  to 
be  allowed  to  accept  as  many  engagements  as  could  be 
conveniently  arranged  in  connection  with  my  appearances 
in  opera.  By  contract  I  was  guaranteed  fifty  operatic 
performances,  including  Sunday  night  concerts.  The 
other  concerts  Grau  arranged  for  me  himself.  If  for 
these  he  obtained  more  money  than  the  pro  rata  amount, 
the  opera  company  was  to  benefit  by  the  excess.  This 
was  satisfactory  to  me  inasmuch  as  all  my  expenses,  ex 
cept  hotel  bills,  during  the  fulfillment  of  such  engagements 
were  defrayed,  even  to  the  salary  of  my  accompanist. 
As  Mr.  Grau  explained,  Plangon  had  been  such  a  money 
maker  by  the  acceptance  of  outside  engagements  that  he 
had  cost  the  company  nothing.  Mr.  Plangon's  contract 
provided  that  every  journey  he  took  should  be  paid  for 
by  the  company,  -with  every  wig,  costume,  and  property 
that  he  had  used  in  years.  He  was  a  handsome  figure  of 
a  man,  and  to  dress  him  handsomely  in  accordance  with 
his  handsome  voice  was  the  only  handsome  thing  for  a 
manager  to  do,  and  handsomely  he  did  it. 

Maurice  Grau  reveled  in  difficulties  and  delighted  in 
fitting  together  engagements  for  his  artists  in  concert  and 
opera.  He  was  a  great  card  player,  expert  at  chess,  and 
an  inveterate  operator  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  viewed 
the  profession  of  an  impresario  in  the  light  of  a  com 
plicated  and  highly  interesting  game  in  which,  when  his 
partners  did  not  upset  his  calculations,  he  was  usually  suc 
cessful. 


246       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

I  remember  that  I  came  into  Mr.  Grau's  private  office 
one  day  and  found  him  in  the  midst  of  a  discussion  of 
the  most  intricate  nature,  arising  out  of  the  illness  of  sev 
eral  of  his  principals  and  the  need  for  filling  their  places 
in  compliance  with  their  contracts,  taking  into  further 
account  the  probable  effect  upon  the  public  of  the  changes 
in  the  casts.  At  the  same  time  he  was  hearing  a  com 
plicated  report  from  the  managers  of  the  company;  dis 
cussing  the  terms  of  his  written  agreement  with  an  artist 
without  referring  to  the  document,  except  to  prove  the 
artist  wrong;  speaking  as  many  as  three  foreign  languages 
in  rotation  with  men  of  as  many  nationalities  about  him; 
calling  up  his  broker  in  Wall  Street  to  give  him  orders  to 
buy  and  sell,  and  evidently  calculating  the  possible  gains 
and  losses  mentally  as  he  spoke.  He  had  indeed  a  pho 
tographic  mind,  the  absorptive  and  retentive  power  of 
which  I  have  never  s-een  equaled. 

It  takes  a  clear  head  to  run  two  monster  companies 
in  two  of  the  greatest  opera  houses  in  the  world  with  the 
ocean  rolling  between  them;  but  this  Mr.  Grau  did,  in 
addition  to  many  other  theatrical  and  musical  ventures, 
making  for  himself  a  name  that  will  go  down  in  history 
as  that  of  one  of  the  ablest  impresarios  of  his  day. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

HAPS   AND   MISHAPS 

—  Grasps  the  skirts  of  happy  chance, 
And  breasts  the  blows  of  circumstance. 

—  Tennyson. 

UPON  my  recovery  from  influenza  this  is  the  sort  of 
work  I  had  to  do.  The  opera  had  finished  its  season  in 
Chicago  and  elsewhere  and  had  come  to  New  York, 
where  on  December  9,  1898,  I  sang  at  the  Metropolitan 
with  Van  Dyck  and  Nordica.  The  nth  I  sang  in  the 
Sunday  night  opera  concert  in  solos  and  in  the  duet  from 
u  The  Flying  Dutchman  "  with  Madame  Gadski.  On 
the  1 3th  I  gave  with  Arthur  Whiting  the  whole  cycle  of 
Schubert's  "  Miiller  Lieder  "  in  Boston,  repeating  that 
program  two  days  later  in  New  York  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  same  evening  appearing  with  Madame  Nordica 
at  the  house  of  the  elder  J.  Pierpont  Morgan.  The  fol 
lowing  evening  I  declaimed  Alberich  at  the  opera,  with 
Van  Rooy  as  the  Wanderer,  making  six  performances  in 
eight  days. 

Then,  fortunately,  I  had  a  little  rest,  just  a  breathing 
space,  like  the  whale,  only  he  comes  up  to  spout  but  sel 
dom,  while  the  artist  has  to  remain  up,  if  he  can,  and 
spout  continually. 

When  it  was  decided  that  I  should  give  the  "  Miiller 
Lieder  "  in  Boston  I  felt  a  distinct  sense  of  alarm.  I  had 
looked  up  to  Boston  from  my  youth,  and  now  that  I 
visited  its  classic  precincts,  though  I  found  the  Bostonese 

247 


248       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

much  the  same  as  other  people,  yet  there  still  clung  about 
them  and  their  city  and  everything  pertaining  to  it,  from 
its  hallowed  Common  to  its  crooked  streets,  from  its 
Handel  and  Haydn  Society  to  its  Symphony  Orchestra, 
something  indefinitely  alarming  which  a  mere  Philadel- 
phian  could  not  consider  without  trepidation. 

That  curious  assumption  of  right,  that  distinction  of 
superiority  that  hangs  about  Boston,  is  undeniably  felt  -as 
we  approach  the  Hub  from  any  quarter.  We  sense  it, 
as  we  would  Rome,  with  a  feeling  of  something  everlast 
ing,  as  being  the  mundane  spot  where  Deity  deigns  to 
touch  the  earth  and  make  it  brighter.  As  we  approach 
we  remember  that  we  have  heard  of  the  sounds  which 
turned  out  to  be  its  people  reciting  Browning,  and  as  we 
approach  still  nearer  we  recognize  an  odor  —  can  it  be 
that  of  sanctity? 

Upon  stepping  across  the  threshold  of  our  American 
Mecca  even  the  negro  porter  who  carries  our  bags  at 
the  railway  station  has  something  superior  about  him;  it 
must  be  that  he  knows  more  than  the  porters  of  other 
cities.  The  bell  boys  and  the  bootblacks  at  the  hotels  — 
have  they  not  access  daily  to  the  Boston  papers?  They 
must  know  all  about  us  who  make  music,  from  these. 
I  feel  a  vague  alarm  that  critics  —  Boston  critics  —  shall 
be  at  my  concerts ! 

Will  any  one  recognize  me  in  Boston?  Ah,  yes,  I 
am  recognized;  the  manicure  has  heard  me  sing  in  New 
York!  Oh,  joy,  the  waiter  at  the  table  remembers  me 
from  Europe !  I  am  called  upon  by  one  or  two  friends. 
Though  I  have  been  there  many  a  time,  I  have  wondered 
at  my  temerity  in  tempting  fate,  and  wondered,  too, 
whether  such  visits  were  not  made  in  a  sort  of  bravado, 
not  in  the  endeavor  to  conquer  Boston,  but  just  to  show 


HAPS  AND  MISHAPS  249 

the  rest  of  the  United  States  that  I  am  not  afraid  of  it. 
Though  it  did  not  need  my  attention,  I  was  not  to  be  in 
duced  to  pass  by  on  the  other  side.  I  have  felt  that  it 
might  be  well  to  receive  from  Boston  that  little  corrective 
of  which  my  system  was  in  need,  after  a  good  deal  of 
feeding  up  in  other  parts  of  the  country  —  the  feeding 
up  that  makes  one  feel  so  good  and  yet  is  so  bad  for 
one;  the  success  that  is  so  beneficial  and  yet  so  harmful; 
the  sweet  little  morsels  rolled  under  the  tongue  which 
are  said  to  be  so  deleterious. 

But  to  continue.  Four  days'  rest;  and  on  December 
2  ist  I  gave  a  song  recital  at  Hartford,  Connecticut.  As 
I  distinctly  remember,  my  eccentric  accompanist,  Mr. 
Blank,  refused  to  carry  my  music  on  the  stage,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  concert  threw  it  on  the  floor  behind  the  door 
instead  of  placing  it  on  the  table  at  hand  —  capricious  as 
a  soldier  mutinying  over  a  matter  of  daily  routine.  The 
next  evening  I  gave  a  concert  at  the  Brooklyn  Institute, 
the  program  consisting  of  sixteen  songs,  different  in 
every  instance  from  those  sung  in  Hartford.  The  fol 
lowing  night,  December  23,  I  sang  my  old  part  of  Telra- 
mund  with  Madame  Eames  and  Dippel.  December  25 
I  sang  "  The  Messiah  "  in  Boston,  repeating  it  there  the 
next  day.  December  30  in  the  afternoon  I  took  part  in 
'  The  Messiah  "  in  New  York;  that  same  evening  singing 
in  "  Tristan  and  Isolde  "  at  the  opera.  The  following 
afternoon,  December  31,  we  repeated  "  Lohengrin,"  and 
in  the  evening  I  sang  "  The  Messiah  "  at  Carnegie  Hall, 
making  nine  heavy  performances  in  eleven  days. 

The 'year  1899  opened  almost  as  strenuously.  Janu 
ary  4  I  sang  in  "  Siegfried  "  in  Philadelphia,  on  January 
5  a  whole  recital  program  in  Orange,  New  Jersey, 
January  7  an  entire  program  again  of  a  different  nature 


250       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

in  Troy,  New  York;  January  8  at  the  opera  house  in  the 
Sunday  night  concert,  January  9  "  Lohengrin  "  in  the 
same  auditorium,  January  10  the  same  opera  in  the 
Brooklyn  Academy  of  Music,  and  January  12  Alberich  in 
"  The  Rheingold  "  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  perform 
ance  of  the  entire  Trilogy  given  in  New  York  under  Mr. 
Grau's  direction :  —  seven  performances  in  nine  days. 

A  summary  of  the  work  which  I  have  just  sketched 
shows  that  besides  six  appearances  in  opera  I  sang  "  The 
Messiah "  four  times  and  the  whole  or  part  of  ten 
concerts.  I  also  rendered  Brahms's  "  Four  Serious 
Songs  "  several  times,  Beethoven's  cycle,  and  three  per 
formances  of  Schubert's  "  Miiller  Lieder  ";  besides  other 
vocal  selections.  Indeed,  those  days  were  crowded  full; 
as  the  Bible  says,  "  pressed  down,  shaken  together,  and 
running  over  "  with  interest,  excitement,  hard  study,  and 
constant  work,  and  this  for  a  man  who  had  just  arisen 
from  a  sick  bed!  The  whole  season  went  on  like  that, 
numbering  almost  a  hundred  appearances  before  I  went 
across  the  ocean  again. 

Such  casts  as  we  then  had  may  be  well  looked  back 
upon  with  pride.  Nordica  would  be  the  Elsa  in  "  Lo 
hengrin  "  one  night,  Emma  Eames  the  next.  Jean  de 
Reszke  or  Van  Dyck  as  Lohengrin,  Edouard  de  Reszke 
the  King,  Madame  Schumann-Heink  the  Ortrud,  Van 
Rooy  the  Wotan  and  the  Wanderer  in  "  The  Ring," 
with  Van  Dyck  in  his  superb  impersonation  of  Loge ;  Lilli 
Lehmann  as  Sieglinde  or  Briinnhilde;  Jean  de  Reszke  as 
Siegfried,  with  his  brother  Edouard  as  Hagen,  with  Nor 
dica  and  Schumann-Heink  in  the  cast.  Great  nights ! 

There  were,  however,  times  when  mishaps  took  place. 
At  the  close  of  the  first  act  of  "  Siegfried,"  in  the  scene 
of  the  forging  of  the  sword,  the  young  hero  proves  the 


HAPS  AND  MISHAPS  251 

temper  of  his  blade  by  bringing  it  down  upon  the  anvil, 
cleaving  it  in  twain.  But  more  than  once  the  anvil  split 
apart  while  the  sword  was  still  poised  high  in  mid-air 
for  the  blow,  leaving  the  actor  looking  silly  at  having 
nothing  to  do  except  to  wish  that  he  could  hide  the  en 
chanted  weapon  and  his  own  confusion  as  well.  The 
Germans  with  one  accord  blamed  the  American  manage 
ment,  though  the  fault  lay  wholly  with  the  German  sub- 
director,  who  had  pulled  the  string  that  parts  the  anvil  at 
the  wrong  moment. 

Often,  too,  when  the  curtain  fell,  it  left  the  anvil, 
split  as  it  was,  outside,  for  awkward  removal  by  the 
stage  hands,  ruining  the  climax  of  the  act.  Here  again 
the  blame  was  attached  to  the  English-speaking  persons 
who  paid  the  German  stage  manager  his  salary  not  to 
leave  the  anvil  outside.  That  worthy  ever  insisted  upon 
placing  the  unfortunate  object  so  near  the  curtain  that 
the  usual  draught  from  the  auditorium  was  bound  to 
sway  it  back  too  far.  It  was  a  law  of  nature  and  not  an 
American  plan  for  Teutonic  confusion;  but  no  German,  in 
or  out  of  the  cast,  would  have  it  so. 

In  the  gyrations  of  the  Rhine  daughters,  suspended  in 
air  to  simulate  the  appearance  of  swimming  in  the  river, 
their  attempt  to  escape  from  the  embraces  of  Alberich 
looks  easy.  But  often  the  complicated  machinery  by 
which  they  are  held  and  moved  got  out  of  order  at  the 
critical  moment.  Once  the  Rhine  maiden,  Flosshilde, 
was  left  in  mid-air  at  the  end  of  the  act,  almost  necessi 
tating  the  call  of  the  fire  department  to  release  her;  and 
the  other  time  Woglinde  lost  the  brace  that  held  her 
shoulders  and  was  hung  upside  down  by  one  foot,  scream 
ing  until  the  house  was  in  alarm. 

Accidents  are  bound  to  happen  on  the  best  regulated 


252       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

stages.  I  remember  that  at  an  afternoon  performance 
of  "  The  Valkyrie,"  desiring  to  save  myself  in  the  ex 
treme  pressure  of  the  season,  I  remained  in  bed  during 
the  morning  in  my  apartment  above  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House  and  had  no  luncheon,  but  asked  to  have  it 
supplied  me  after  the  first  act,  in  which  I  was  impersonat 
ing  the  character  of  Hunding.  It  was  ordered  from  the 
restaurant,  then  in  the  Fortieth  Street  corner  of  the  opera 
house  building,  and  it  was  to  be  brought  in  at  the  Fortieth 
Street  stage  door  to  my  dressing  room  on  the  Thirty- 
ninth  Street  side.  The  scene  represents  the  interior  of 
Hunding's  hut,  built  around  a  great  tree  which  rises 
through  its  roof.  Madame  Eames,  always  the  best  of 
Sieglindes,  was  seated  at  the  table  beneath  the  tree  on  the 
right  hand  of  Hunding,  her  lord  and  master,  on  whose 
left  sat  Siegmund.  Our  meal  was  scanty  and  consisted 
mostly  of  arid  drinks  from  empty  cups  made  of  the  curved 
horns  of  cattle.  While  grimly  listening  to  the  story  of 
Siegmund,  I  became  aware  of  a  commotion  at  my  left 
just  off  the  stage,  where  through  the  wings  I  saw  my 
waiter  from  the  neighboring  restaurant  standing,  his 
white  apron  showing  against  the  dark  background  and 
the  tray  with  my  frugal  meal  poised  on  one  hand  above 
his  head.  At  that  moment  I  had  to  sing  and,  though  the 
waiter  did  not  recognize  me  in  my  disguise,  he  knew  me 
by  my  voice,  and  so  made  a  dash  for  the  table  at  which 
he  saw  me  sitting.  He  was  caught  by  the  coat-tail  just 
as  he  was  about  to  make  his  first  appearance  upon  any 
stage.  I  was  so  upset  with  mirth  that  I  could  scarcely 
continue  my  part. 

Nothing  was  finer  in  the  series  of  operas  that  year  than 
Van  Dyck's  impersonation  of  Loge,  the  fire  god  in  "  The 
Rheingold,"  and  such  an  embodiment  of  the  Spirit  of 


HAPS  AND  MISHAPS  253 

Flame  surely  was  never  seen  before.  Would  that  my 
own  frequent  rendering  of  the  Frost  Scene  from  u  King 
Arthur  "  could  in  any  way  have  matched  it !  Yet  I  once 
so  impressed  an  American  poetess  as  the  Genius  of  Cold 
that  she  attempted  to  dramatize  the  Glacial  Epoch  in 
Kansas ! 

Hard  as  all  this  music  is  to  learn  there  are  certain 
parts  of  it  which  are  most  baffling  in  their  complexity. 
Even  Beckmesser  is  scarcely  less  puzzling  than  Alberich, 
and  in  that  part  perhaps  the  most  difficult  scene  of  all  is 
the  quarrel  with  Mime  at  the  mouth  of  the  dragon's  cave 
in  the  second  act  of  "  Siegfried."  I  have  often  performed 
this,  but  each  time  approached  it  with  fear  and  trembling. 
At  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  Alberich  is  found  lying  outside 
the  cavern  in  the  dusk  of  the  early  morn,  keeping  watch 
over  the  ring  and  the  sleeping  dragon,  its  guardian. 
There  is  something  primal  about  the  part  of  Alberich, 
who  is,  after  all,  the  deus  ex  machina  of  the  whole  Niebe- 
lungen  story.  But  the  supreme  moment  is  when  Mime 
appears  and  the  quarrel  between  the  two  brothers  en 
sues.  That  scene  takes  about  one  minute  and  a  half  to 
enact.  After  ten  days  spent  in  learning  it  I  thought  I 
had  it  fast,  patted  myself  on  the  back,  and  slept  in  peace 
until  rehearsal  the  next  day.  When  I  awoke  in  the  morn 
ing  I  could  not  remember  a  word  of  it!  These  things 
settle  eventually  into  the  mind;  but  let  me  assure  the 
student  that  the  trick  of  learning  parts,  even  compar 
atively  easy  ones,  is  an  accomplishment  to  be  acquired 
early  in  the  game,  or  valuable  time  will  be  lost  and  a 
greater  effort  made  necessary  than  should  be  required. 
We  Americans  have  to  work  harder  than  most  Euro 
peans  to  learn  operatic  roles,  partly  through  lack  of  early 
training  in  the  essentials  of  the  calling,  partly  because 


254       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

we  have  so  little  preliminary  education  in  foreign  lan 
guages. 

For  myself  I  can  only  say  that,  while  it  was  a  drudgery, 
it  was  one  that  I  was  glad  to  undergo.  At  last  Alberich 
and  all  my  other  characters  got  well  into  my  emotional 
nature  and  I  was  able  to  make  them  effective  accordingly. 
Artists  differ  greatly  in  their  ability  to  memorize  words 
and  music.  Some  learn  with  ease  and  forget  equally 
rapidly;  others  learn  slowly  and  have  retentive  memories; 
some  learn  slowly  and  forget  quickly,  and  others  learn 
quickly  and  never  forget.  Luckily  for  me  I  read  music 
well,  though  I  play  it  badly,  and  I  do  not  need  aid  from 
the  piano  after  a  certain  stage  in  learning  any  role.  I 
have  seen  Madame  Schumann-Heink  reacquiring  a  part 
she  had  not  sung  for  years  from  the  score  in  her  lap 
while  we  were  traveling.  Madame  Melba's  extraordi 
nary  memory  has  enabled  her  to  sing  a  role  without  an 
error  which  she  had  sung  but  once,  and  that  six  years 
before.  But  memory  is  only  one  of  many  requirements. 
One  singer  who  was  in  our  company  for  years  was  the 
quickest  study  and  most  reliable  artist  I  ever  knew,  yet 
he  remained  a  nonentity,  his  very  name  unremembered, 
through  lack  of  the  mysterious  gift  of  personality. 

In  Washington  one  spring,  Madame  Sembrich,  usually 
the  most  trustworthy  of  vocalists,  was  compelled  by  sud 
den  illness  to  excuse  herself  from  singing.  The  manage 
ment  was  notified  of  it  early  in  the  morning,  and  Madame 
Nordica  was  begged  to  assume  the  part,  after  several 
seasons  spent  in  Wagnerian  roles.  But  Violetta  is  so 
different  from  Briinnhilde  or  Isolde  that  the  diva,  good- 
natured  and  obliging  as  she  was,  was  almost  prostrated 
with  nervousness  at  the  thought  of  stepping  into  Sem- 
brich's  shoes,  often  as  she  had  sung  the  role  in  years  gone 


HAPS  AND  MISHAPS  255 

by.  And  not  only  Sembrich's  part  and  shoes  had  to  be 
considered,  but  Sembrich's  costume,  for  Nordica  had 
brought  nothing  of  the  sort  with  her,  never  expecting,  of 
course,  to  be  called  upon  in  this  way. 

Many  were  the  consultations  in  the  old  Shoreham 
Hotel  between  Sembrich  downstairs  and  Nordica  several 
floors  up.  Messengers  were  kept  going  between  the 
manager  and  the  prima  donnas,  both  of  them  popular, 
but  knowing  the  risk  of  disappointing  a  public.  To  re- 
learn  an  old  part  is  not  a  light  task,  but  it  is  no  less  dif 
ficult  to  change  an  operatic  bill  and  still  conform  to  the 
singers'  contracts.  Those  who  sang  a  night  or  two  before 
may  flatly  decline  to  appear  again  until  the  time  and  in 
the  role  set  down  in  the  understanding.  There  is  the  or 
chestra;  there  is  the  conductor;  there  is  the  chorus;  every 
body  but  the  one  person  needed,  who  will  not  budge  a 
hair's  breadth  to  oblige  the  distraught  impresario. 

Nordica  was  willing,  but  was  she  able?  If  willing 
and  able,  could  she  get  into  Sembrich's  clothes?  Their 
maids  were  called  in.  Nordica's  accompanist  began 
teaching  her  the  music  afresh,  playing  and  humming  over 
page  after  page,  because  it  would  never  do  to  rehearse 
all  day  in  full  voice  the  piece  to  be  done  that  night. 
Doctor  Stengel,  Madame  Sembrich's  husband,  haunted 
Nordica's  door,  anxiously  inquiring  how  the  part  was 
progressing. 

Twelve  o'clock  came,  two  o'clock  came,  messengers 
came  and  went  to  and  fro,  hurrying  and  scurrying  hither 
and  thither  with  notes  to  this  or  that  member  of  the  com 
pany,  who  might  be  able  to  oblige  in  the  embarrassing 
moment.  But  no !  Unless  the  opera  were  changed  Nor 
dica  would  have  to  sing;  and  Nordica  had  not  said  yes. 
All  the  time,  however,  she  was  doing  her  best,  fitting  her- 


256       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

self  into  her  old  part  while  Sembrich's  clothes  were  being 
fitted  on  her  as  she  stood  by  the  piano.  As  Nordica, 
becoming  more  familiar  with  her  role,  began  to  act  it, 
moving  to  and  fro  in  the  room,  she  accidentally  bumped 
into  the  tall  workbasket  as  it  stood  by  the  open  window, 
knocked  it  over  and  out  on  the  balcony,  sending  its  con 
tents  through  the  latticework  to  be  blown  by  the  stiff 
breeze  all  over  the  street  several  stories  below. 

Returning  from  the  theatre  after  seeing  whether  I 
should  be  required  in  case  of  a  change  of  opera,  I  found 
in  front  of  the  hotel  silk  and  velvet,  linings  and  brocades, 
skeins  of  varied  colors  and  spools  of  thread,  scissors  and 
thimbles,  scattered  over  the  sidewalk  in  process  of  col 
lection  by  maids,  bell  boys,  Doctor  Stengel,  street  urchins 
and  newsboys,  negro  porters  and  cabmen,  all  called  into 
the  chase  as  the  wind  merrily  blew  the  treasures  up  and 
down.  At  last  all  were  corralled,  the  costumes  fitted, 
and  Nordica  assured  Mr.  Grau  that  she  knew  the  part. 
It  was  sung  accordingly  and  the  day  was  saved;  and  if  the 
day  was  saved  the  night  was  a  triumph  for  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  obliging  prima  donnas  that  America 
ever  produced. 

Madame  Lilli  Lehmann  joined  the  company  that  sea 
son,  and  then  New  York  heard  after  a  lapse  of  several 
years  one  of  the  greatest  artists  that  ever  adorned  the 
European  stage.  I  had  seen  her  many  times  in  Germany, 
admiring  her  immensely  from  the  audience;  now  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  appearing  with  her  when  she  sang  Fricka, 
Sieglinde,  and  the  Briinnhildes,  Ortrud,  and  Isolde. 
Artists  have  their  individual  ways.  Accustomed  as  they 
are  to  their  work,  some  are  never  at  ease  unless  being 
prompted  from  the  little  round  box  down  in  front  of  the 
footlights;  and,  though  the  public  should  not  hear  his 


HAPS  AND  MISHAPS  257 

voice,  it  is  comforting  to  a  person  like  me  to  find  such  an 
ever  present  help  in  time  of  trouble.  But  Lilli  Lehmann 
would  have  none  of  it.  I  have  seen  her  walk  to  the 
prompter's  box  and  request  that  she  be  not  prompted  in 
anything  at  any  time,  and  with  a  stern  look  on  her  hand 
some  face  declare  that  she  knew  her  part  and  that  any 
interference  only  embarrassed  rather  than  helped  her  in 
rendering  it. 

This  superb  woman  lived  with  her  sister  Marie  in  an 
apartment  in  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  building, 
where  several  of  us  also  had  lodgings,  including  the  bary 
tone  Maurel.  Calling  one  afternoon  upon  Lilli  Leh 
mann  I  found  her  domestically  darning  the  barytone's 
stockings  and  greatly  enjoying  the  home-like  service.  He 
was  not  arrayed  for  conquest  as  was  his  wont,  and  she 
was  not  expecting  visitors.  The  apron  that  adorned 
her  queenly  form  and  the  gray  hair  that  crowned  her  re 
gal  head  came  to  me  as  something  of  a  shock,  in  spite  of 
my  knowledge  that  artists  beneath  their  disguises  are 
nothing  but  mortals. 

That  winter  Maurel's  apartment  was  set  on  fire.  My 
rooms  were  a  few  floors  above  his  and  up  the  stairway 
and  elevator  shaft  were  wafted  great  clouds  of  pungent 
smoke  from  the  transom  of  his  sitting-room.  He  had 
gone  out  while  his  servant  was  preparing  a  posset  to  for 
tify  his  master  against  the  evening  performance.  The 
concoction  was  on  the  hob  to  simmer.  The  man  forgot 
the  mixture  when  he  left  the  room,  and  returned  to  find 
the  door  broken  in  by  the  fire  department.  The  mess 
had  boiled  over,  set  the  rug  on  fire,  climbed  the  mantel 
piece,  and  generally  created  a  tempest  in  a  teapot,  one 
result  being  that  Maurel  was  sued  for  damages  by  the 
lady  from  whom  he  had  rented  the  room  while  she  was 


258       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

off  on  a  concert  tour.  One  may  well  say,  "  Behold  how 
great  a  matter  a  little  fire  kindleth." 

Among  my  programs  I  find  one  bearing  the  following 
in  regard  to  the  performance  of  u  The  Rheingold  "  of 
January  27,  1899:  "Special  notice. —  Miss  Marie 
Brema  is  suffering  from  a  slight  cold  and  begs  the  kind 
indulgence  of  the  public."  Miss  Brema's  cold  became  so 
bad  that  she  could  not  sing  and  Madame  Lilli  Lehmann 
took  the  part  of  Fricka  to  study  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  and  sang  it  that  night  for  the  first  time.  She 
told  me  this  herself.  On  this  occasion  the  great  artist 
needed  not  only  the  prompter,  but  all  the  prompting  she 
could  get,  and  every  help  was  given  her  to  get  her  through 
the  evening  as  comfortably  as  possible.  One  or  another 
of  the  assistant  conductors  stood  ready  to  give  the  word 
at  the  least  sign  of  trouble,  to  whichever  side  of  the  stage 
she  moved.  Her  sister  Marie  was  rendering  a  similar 
service,  and  to  her  Madame  Lehmann  chiefly  looked. 
The  sister  told  me  later  that  Lilli  had  sung  in  "  The 
Ring  "  so  often  and  in  so  many  parts  that  she  was  already 
somewhat  familiar  with  the  role;  but  let  me  say  that 
there  is  not  one  artist  in  a  thousand,  perhaps  not  an 
other  in  the  world,  physically,  nervously,  mentally,  and 
musically  able  to  perform  such  a  feat  or,  if  able  to  per 
form  it,  willing  to  do  so  to  help  another  artist  and  assist 
the  management  in  its  duty  to  the  public. 

Goldsmith  says  in  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  "  Women 
and  music  should  never  be  dated,"  but  though  she  has 
now  passed  the  threescore  years  and  ten  allotted  to  mor 
tals,  there  is  certainly  no  artist  in  the  history  of  the 
modern  lyric  stage  who  has  performed  so  great  a  number 
of  parts  or  performed  them  with  such  uniform  distinc 
tion  as  Madame  Lilli  Lehmann. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    UNFLYING   DUTCHMAN 

As  idle  as  a  painted  ship 
Upon  a  painted  ocean. 

—  Coleridge. 

I  HAVE  spoken  of  the  square  dealing  of  Maurice  Grau 
in  certain  matters,  though  in  others  he  was  almost  par 
simonious.  On  our  tour  that  year,  Grau,  desiring  to 
save  as  much  as  possible  in  the  transportation  of  scenery, 
communicated  with  the  managers  of  the  theatres  we  were 
to  visit,  asking  what  scenery  of  theirs  could  be  used,  to 
save  us  the  expense  of  bringing  our  own. 

If  I  mistake  not,  it  was  in  Baltimore,  when  I  was  per 
forming  in  "  Lohengrin,"  that  an  incident  occurred  of 
which  the  German  stage  manager  had  a  perfect  right  to 
complain.  The  curtain  rose  on  the  first  act  and  every 
thing  went  on  musically  to  perfection.  We,  the  partici 
pants,  were  facing  the  audience,  with  the  chorus  on  the 
elevated  parts  of  the  stage  behind  us.  At  the  approach 
of  the  Knight  of  the  Swan  the  chorus  moves  aside  as 
Telramund  goes  up  stage  and  hurls  defiance  at  Lohen 
grin  when  he  is  magically  drawn  in  on  his  boat  by  the 
swan,  along  the  river  Scheldt  near  Antwerp.  But,  turn 
ing,  what  greeted  my  eyes,  those  of  my  associates  and  of 
the  astonished  audience,  was  the  river  Thames  at  Hen 
ley  crowded  with  house  boats  for  the  famous  regatta! 
This  was  the  river  scene  asked  for  from  the  New  York 

259 


26o       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

office,  and  it  was  idle  for  poor  Paul  Schumann  to  try  to 
wash  his  hands  of  the  affair  among  the  painted  boats 
upon  that  painted  river. 

After  an  adjourned  farewell  of  opera  at  the  Metro 
politan,  the  company  as  a  whole  —  chorus  and  ballet,  but 
not  orchestra  —  set  sail  for  London,  where  we  immedi 
ately  opened  under  the  conductorship,  as  far  as  the  Ger 
man  operas  were  concerned,  of  Felix  Mottl  and  Doctor 
Muck,  both  of  whom  were  later  to  come  to  America. 
The  former  was  greatly  disappointed  because  he  did 
not  meet  with  the  success  in  New  York  he  considered 
justly  his;  and  though  the  latter  became  conductor  of 
the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra,  it  will  be  remembered 
that  during  the  war  he  was  obliged  to  retire  as  an  alien 
enemy. 

On  May  23,  1899,  Madame  Gadski  and  I  were  billed 
to  present  "  The  Flying  Dutchman  "  at  Covent  Garden, 
where  in  rapid  succession  I  had  also  been  singing  in  "  Tris 
tan  and  Isolde,"  "  Tannhauser,"  "  The  Mastersingers," 
and  as  Wotan  in  "  The  Valkyrie."  I  had  rendered 
*  The  Dutchman  "  before  in  London,  and  knew  the  ves 
sel  of  that  antiquated  skipper  on  the  Covent  Garden  dry 
docks  to  be  at  least  as  old  as  himself.  I  asked  for  a  re 
hearsal  with  my  craft  before  I  ventured  on  board  of  her 
to  sail  the  operatic  sea.  That  the  stage  at  that  time  was 
extremely  busy,  I  had  to  admit.  Rehearsals  were  going 
on  in  every  available  room  in  the  opera  house  —  in  the 
foyer,  in  the  old  greenroom,  in  front  of  the  curtain,  in  the 
orchestra,  and  behind  the  curtain  on  the  stage;  in  short, 
upstairs  and  downstairs  and  in  my  lady's  dressing  room. 
There  was  no  time  to  get  the  old  tub  out  and  polish  her 
up;  but  my  prophetic  soul  knew  something  was  about  to 
happen.  As  I  entered  the  darkened  stage  I  saw  that 


THE  UNFLYING  DUTCHMAN  261 

sheer  hulk  lurking  in  the  offing  and  my  mind  was  filled 
with  a  ghostly  apprehension. 

We  had  at  the  time  a  bustling  little  mustachioed  Ger 
man  stage  manager,  always  in  his  evening  clothes,  with 
white  kid  gloves  and  an  opera  hat,  and  wearing  several 
decorations  on  his  coat  lapel.  I  came  from  my  dressing 
room  when  I  heard  the  overture  begin,  and  to  my  horror 
found  that  the  Herr  stage  director  had  ordered  the  ship, 
for  this  occasion,  at  least,  to  be  lighted  up;  indeed  there 
was,  as  the  Italians  say,  an  illuminatione  al  giorno.  He 
had  two  large  lanterns  set  on  the  high  poop  deck  of  the 
Spanish  galleon,  with  a  dozen  or  more  tallow  dips  in 
each,  all  of  which  had  just  been  lighted  by  an  obedient 
English  stage  hand,  who  of  course  knew  nothing  of  Wag 
ner's  directions  for  the  opera  prescribing  that  the  ship, 
dark,  ghostly,  and  with  blood-red  sails,  shall  be  seen  ap 
proaching.  I  had  barely,  Boreas-like,  blown  out  the  im 
possible  candles,  when  I  was  compelled  to  climb  aboard, 
take  station,  and  sail  across  the  uncharted  deep  of  Covent 
Garden  stage,  filled  with  an  ancient  and  fish-like  smell, 
and  full  of  cracks,  as  well,  between  worn  boards  that  had 
probably  been  trodden  by  Garrick,  Kean,  and  the  Kem- 
bles. 

This  night  the  sea  was  lashed  into  a  fury  by  the  gale, 
though  it  was  merely  the  light  playing  upon  the  dust  ac 
cumulated  upon  that  floor  cloth,  as  several  sturdy  men 
behind  the  wings  on  each  side  shook  it  into  the  simili 
tude  of  billows,  while  street  urchins  from  the  purlieus 
of  Covent  Garden,  Drury  Lane,  and  the  land  of  Charles 
Lamb  and  Dickens  hunched  up  their  backs  and  walked 
hither  and  thither  beneath  the  painted  ocean  which  rolled 
these  billows  without  in  any  wise  affecting  the  phantom 
ship.  She  proceeded  on  her  even  keel  of  a  half  dozen 


262       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

iron  wheels,  propelled  from  beneath  by  three  or  four 
stalwart  stage  hands.  At  a  given  moment  the  vessel 
should  reach  the  rocky  shore,  and  Vanderdecken  step 
off;  all  of  which  usually  happens  most  unseamanlike  but 
successfully,  and  the  great  scene  should  begin  with  the 
words,  "  Die  Frisst  ist  um  " —  the  term  is  past. 

My  ship  had  been  guided  by  her  invisible  pilots  on 
to  the  stage,  and  after  a  graceful  turn  should  have  en 
tered  the  harbor.  Fate  that  night  was  against  me,  and 
guided  one  of  those  submarine  wheels  into  a  broad  crack 
in  the  stage  at  the  bottom  of  the  operatic  sea.  There, 
about  eight  feet  from  shore,  my  vessel  stuck. 

The  night  was  dark  and  the  wind  howled  dismally, 
as  the  storm  subsided.  The  orchestral  prelude  ended; 
but  I  could  not  disembark.  I  felt  the  men  beneath  me 
trying  to  lift  the  ship  out  of  its  predicament.  I  hoped 
against  hope  that  my  term  was  indeed  past,  but  nothing 
happened;  I  was  condemned  to  remain  aboard  that  fated 
ship.  Doctor  Muck,  who  was  conducting,  looked  up  and 
gave  the  sign  for  me  to  advance  and  sing.  I  stolidly  met 
his  gaze,  but  did  not  move.  Becoming  impatient  he 
made  a  sign  or  two  more,  and  then  laid  down  his  baton, 
bowed  over  it,  put  his  head  in  his  hands  and  shook  with 
laughter.  I  knew  what  he  was  thinking:  "That  ver- 
dammte  Covent  Garden  stage  management  again!" 
But  what  would  he  have  said  had  I  not  put  out  those 
tallow  dips! 

By  this  time  the  orchestra  men  began  to  stand  up  and 
peer  over  the  footlights,  and  the  audience  was  evidently 
in  a  hushed  excitement.  Suddenly  the  masts  of  the  ship 
began  violently  to  shake,  as  the  stern  arose  a  full  foot 
in  the  air  and  bumped  back  again  with  a  crash.  Some 
one  in  the  audience  tittered,  and  there  was  a  sound  of 


THE  UNFLYING  DUTCHMAN  263 

"  Sh-sh-hush !  "  in  protest;  was  not  Wagner  being  per 
formed,  and  was  it  not  by  just  so  much  a  sacred  occa 
sion?  Suddenly  I  heard  a  series  of  grunts  from  the 
bowels  of  my  craft  as  it  again  rose  and  fell  back  without 
moving  an  inch  forward.  Then  came  the  voice  of  one 
of  the  stage  hands  from  the  vasty  deep.  ;'  Why  don't 
you  shove  'er  along,  Bill?  "  he  said,  so  that  the  whole  au 
dience  could  hear;  whereupon  Bill  replied  still  louder, 
"  'Ow  can  I,  when  the  blasted  thing  is  stuck  fast  in  the 
stige?  "  With  this  all  bounds  of  gravity  were  overcome 
and  the  audience  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  such  as 
might  have  greeted  the  wittiest  sally  of  any  comedian  in 
"  The  Gaiety  Girl,"  then  running  at  a  neighboring 
theatre. 

I,  holding  my  own,  not  only  with  a  forced  composure, 
but  with  a  firm  grasp  upon  the  shrouds  for  fear  I  should 
be  tilted  overboard,  had  been  tempted  to  jump  ashore; 
that,  however,  would  have  been  dangerous  in  the  dark. 
It  would  not  do  to  climb  down  and  swim  to  the  land; 
that  would  have  been  ridiculous.  Suddenly  a  light  be 
gan  to  break;  from  one  corner  of  my  weather  eye  I  ob 
served  the  head  stage  carpenter,  who,  when  his  attention 
was  called  to  the  mishap,  had  hurried  around  behind  and 
from  somewhere  brought  a  plank  ten  feet  long,'  which 
in  his  shirt  sleeves  he  bore,  both  hands  lifted  high  above 
a  head  crowned  with  a  derby  hat.  Wading  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  ocean,  almost  up  to  his  neck  in  its  water, 
this  worthy  placed  one  end  of  the  plank  upon  my  vessel 
and  the  other  upon  the  rocks,  and  very  politely  turned 
to  me,  touched  his  hat,  and  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  u  Now 
you  can  get  off,  sir,"  and  took  his  departure. 

With  such  a  prelude  was  I  obliged  to  proceed,  ac 
companied  not  only  by  the  orchestra  but  by  the  gradually 


264       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

subsiding  merriment  of  an  audience  that  must  long  have 
remembered  what  is  unforgettable  to  me. 

That  was  not  all.  In  the  last  act  the  Dutchman  is 
supposed  to  sail  away,  imagining  that  Senta  has  been  un 
true  to  him.  Such,  however,  was  not  to  be  the  case. 
The  Dutchman  remained  perforce,  because  his  ship  got 
stuck  in  another  crack  and  would  not  budge  more  than 
an  inch.  Senta  is  supposed  to  throw  'herself  into  the 
water,  and  by  her  sacrifice  save  Vanderdecken's  immortal 
soul;  but  Madame  Gadski  was  barely  able  to  squeeze 
herself  between  the  shore  and  the  ship,  and  as  she  grad 
ually  settled  out  of  sight  in  the  waves  a  tin  cupful  of 
water,  by  way  of  splash,  was  thrown  upon  the  stage  by 
one  of  the  urchins  concealed  behind  the  scenery  by  the 
bedecorated  stage  manager,  who  had  also  instructed  one 
of  the  sailors  to  throw  a  modern  life  preserver,  conven 
iently  at  hand  in  expectation  of  the  catastrophe,  into  the 
sea  in  the  vain  attempt  to  save  Madame  Gadski's  life. 

In  anticipation  of  accident  or  the  inability  of  the  two 
principal  artists  to  reach  the  ascending  trap  in  the  back 
of  the  stage  in  order  to  take  part  in  the  beautiful  trans 
formation  scene  with  which,  if  Wagner's  directions  are 
followed,  the  opera  is  brought  to  a  conclusion,  the  man 
agement  provides  two  persons  made  up  and  costumed 
like  Senta  and  Vanderdecken.  But  on  this  unlucky  night, 
I,  from  my  post  of  vantage  on  the  deck  of  the  recalcitrant 
vessel,  saw  arise  from  the  bosom  of  the  deep,  clasped  in 
each  other's  embrace,  not  our  counterfeit  presentments, 
but  two  little  children  twelve  or  thirteen  years  old,  look 
ing  not  in  the  least  like  either  of  us ! 

During  Queen  Victoria's  Diamond  Jubilee  Year,  1899, 
the  sixtieth  year  of  her  reign,  I  had  the  honor  of  being 
invited  again  to  sing  in  a  State  Concert  at  Buckingham 


THE  UNFLYING  DUTCHMAN  265 

Palace,  under  the  conductorship  of  Sir  Walter  Parratt. 
I  sang  with  Madame  Emma  Nevada,  the  American 
prima  donna,  long  absent  from  the  stage,  but  now  in 
duced  to  come  forth  and  sing  the  celebrated  Bell  Song 
from  "  Lakme,"  which  she  did  charmingly.  Madame 
Brema  was  superb  that  night  in  "  Plus  grand  dans  son 
Obscurite  "  from  Gounod's  "  La  Reine  de  Saba."  De 
Lucia  the  tenor  also  sang  and,  besides  other  numbers,  I 
rendered  one  of  the  duets  from  "  Don  Giovanni  "  with 
Madame  Albani. 

This  occasion  was  attended  by  a  most  gorgeous  array 
of  dignitaries  —  no  other  words  describe  it.  All  the 
diplomatic  corps  from  every  country  in  the  world  were 
present,  every  one  in  full  regalia.  The  Prince  of  Wales 
held  court  in  the  place  of  his  august  mother ;  but  amongst 
all  the  royalty,  the  Indian  princes,  the  great  nobles,  and 
fair,  coroneted  ladies  present,  the  one  figure  that  stands 
out  in  my  mind  is  that  of  Lord  Kitchener,  who,  head  and 
shoulders  above  almost  any  one  in  the  room,  was  one  of 
the  most  striking  personalities  in  that  incomparable  as 
semblage. 

I  was  in  demand  among  royalty  that  year  and  was 
gratified,  not  to  say  flattered,  to  receive  another  note 
from  Sir  Walter  Parratt  reminding  me  of  my  singing 
before  the  Queen  in  Scotland,  and  adding  that  it  was 
her  Majesty's  gracious  pleasure  to  command  me  to  sing 
again  for  her,  this  time  at  Osborne  House  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight.  There  I  had  the  pleasure  of  appearing  again 
with  Madame  Marie  Brema.  Before  returning  to  Lon 
don,  we  were  presented  by  the  Duke  of  Connaught  with 
mementos  of  the  occasion  and  the  thanks  of  his  royal 
mother,  who  had  already  graciously  complimented  us 
upon  our  performance,  which  took  place  in  the  presence 


266       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

of  Arthur  Balfour  and  many  distinguished  statesmen  01 
Great  Britain  and  of  Europe. 

Lilli  Lehmann  was  a  member  of  the  London  company 
that  season  and  again  I  sang  with  her  frequently,  while 
among  the  splendid  array  of  women,  one  appearing  in 
England  for  the  first  time  was  our  American,  Louise 
Homer,  who  has  since  risen  to  such  heights.  The  ranks 
of  the  men  were  also  materially  strengthened  by  the  en 
gagement  of  the  barytones,  Maurice  Renaud  from  Paris 
and  Scheidemantel  from  Dresden,  with  whom  I  appeared 
in  my  old  role  of  Beckmesser  to  his  noble  Hans  Sachs. 
But  of  all  the  Sachses  with  whom  I  ever  did  sing,  Edouard 
de  Reszke  was  the  best,  more  completely  in  nobility  of 
voice  and  of  personal  appearance  realizing  the  part,  to 
which  he  brought  a  greater  degree  of  bonhomie  than 
any  other  of  the  numerous  artists,  even  Van  Rooy,  with 
whom  I  have  sung  in  "  The  Mastersingers." 

All  barytones  owe  a  great  deal  to  Victor  Maurel, 
who  was  again  with  us  that  year  in  London  and  who  had 
been  in  America  so  many  times.  I  frequently  heard  him 
as  Don  Giovanni.  I  admired  him  enormously  as  Rigo- 
letto  and  as  Amonasro  and  in  many  of  his  other  roles, 
including  his  later  masterpieces,  lago  and  Falstaff,  and 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  for  over  a  generation  no  barytone 
in  Europe  was  his  equal  either  as  a  singer  or  an  actor. 

The  cast  with  which  I  enjoyed  appearing  more  than 
any  other  was  that  which  became  so  famous  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic.  Indeed  the  public  seemed  to  want  us, 
and  Mr.  Grau,  always  with  his  ear  to  the  ground  with 
respect  to  what  the  public  desired,  put  on  Jean  and  Edou 
ard  de  Reszke,  Madame  Nordica,  Madame  Schumann- 
Heink,  and  myself  upon  many  occasions.  It  so  happened 
that  it  was  this  ensemble  which,  by  royal  command,  sang 


THE  UNFLYING  DUTCHMAN  267 

at  Windsor  Castle  on  the  evening  of  May  24,  1899,  on 
the  occasion  of  Queen  Victoria's  eightieth  birthday,  when 
her  Majesty  heard  u  Lohengrin  "  for  the  first  time. 

We  were  ushered  about  eleven  o'clock  into  what  is 
known  as  the  Waterloo  Chamber,  hung  with  portraits  of 
the  great  generals  who  overcame  Napoleon.  There, 
upon  the  temporary  stage,  always  ready  to  be  put  to 
gether,  we  performed,  under  Mancinelli,  the  first  and 
third  acts  of  the  well-known  opera.  The  Queen  was  lit 
erally  surrounded  by  royalty  and  every  one  of  her  imme 
diate  family  was  there.  Half  the  crowned  heads  of 
Europe  were  present,  and  it  was  a  splendid  sight  to  see 
the  most  celebrated  monarchs  of  the  modern  world  under 
such  circumstances. 

The  opera  over,  the  Queen,  always  considerate,  de 
sired  the  artists  to  appear  with  her  guests  in  the  Green 
Drawing-Room,  requesting  us  not  to  change  our  cos 
tumes  as  the  hour  was  so  late.  Mesdames  Nordica  and 
Schumann-Heink,  Mr.  Muhlmann,  and  the  brothers  de 
Reszke  came  in  their  mediaeval  robes,  Jean  de  Reszke 
in  his  silver  armor,  Edouard  in  the  costume  of  the  King, 
and  looking  every  inch  a  king. 

The  first  and  third  acts  of  "  Lohengrin,"  it  will  be  re 
called,  take  place  in  the  same  stage  setting,  which  was  one 
reason  why  this  opera  and  these  portions  of  it  had  been 
chosen.  I,  as  Telramund,  am  slain  in  the  second  act, 
to  appear  in  the  third  only  as  a  dead  body  borne  in 
upon  a  bier.  Having  ample  time  to  do  so,  I  changed 
into  my  evening  suit,  leaving  my  make-up  on,  since  only 
my  face  is  shown  above  the  pall.  It  happened  that  the 
bearers  were  two  tall  Germans  and  two  short  Italians, 
these  latter  being  on  the  side  toward  the  audience.  As 
a  result  the  bier  slanted  so  that  I  had  to  hang  on  to  it 


268       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

with  one  hand  to  keep  from  being  rolled  off  on  the  stage 
in  my  swallow-tail,  clutching  the  pall  firmly  with  the  other 
lest  it  slip  off  and  disclose  my  incarnate  anachronism,  both 
dead  hands  busy. 

The  great  Queen,  a  little  woman  eighty  years  of  age, 
was,  after  all,  the  Personage  of  that  distinguished  as 
sembly,  and  no  one  who  has  ever  seen  her  under  circum 
stances  of  state  but  realized  that  she  was  the  mistress 
of  all  she  surveyed. 

Her  Majesty  spoke  kind  words  to  us,  and  we  in  turn 
felicitated  her  upon  her  birthday,  of  which  she  was  to 
have  so  few  returns.  Many  of  those  present  that  eve 
ning  have  suffered  defeat,  banishment,  ruin,  death;  but 
the  royal  family  of  England  still  retains  the  respect  of 
the  world. 

As  we  passed  from  the  drawing-room  the  Prince  of 
Wales  led  us  into  the  famous  Holbein  Room,  and  there, 
surrounded  by  the  portraits  painted  by  that  old  master, 
the  Prince  took  from  a  large  table  the  gifts  placed  there 
by  his  royal  mother's  direction,  and  with  many  pleasant 
words  handed  them  to  his  son,  now  King  George  V,  who 
presented  them  to  each  of  us.  I  do  not  know  what  the 
others  received,  but  when  I  had  a  chance  to  open  the 
green  leather  case  embossed  with  the  royal  arms  I  found 
inside  a  gold  cigarette  case  and  match  box,  mementos  of 
an  evening  that  will  never  pass  from  my  memory. 

I  had  cheerful  reflections,  upon  this  momentary  as 
sociation  with  resplendent  royalty,  of  the  little  red-headed 
Quaker  lad  who  had  become  the  singing  representative 
at  that  moment  of  a  family  that  had  left  England  gen 
erations  before  eschewing  music  and  protesting  against 
the  pomp  and  vanity  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A    BAFFLED   IDEAL 

Who  shoots  at  the  midday  sun,  though  he  be  sure  he  shall  never  hit 
the  mark,  yet  as  sure  he  is  he  shall  shoot  higher  than  he  who  aims  at 
a  bush.—  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  » 

AFTER  having  been  in  the  presence  of  the  greatest 
monarch  of  modern  times  I  now  found  myself  the  guest 
of  one  of  the  richest  and  most  notable  men  in  the  world, 
the  great  ironmaster,  Andrew  Carnegie,  at  Skibo  Castle 
in  Scotland,  golfing,  fishing,  and  shooting  deer  with  him, 
and  moreover  with  a  chance  to  discuss  a  matter  near 
my  heart:  the  foundation  of  what  I  called  the  Classic 
Theatre.  It  was  to  do  for  the  drama  in  the  United 
States  all  that  the  Metropolitan  Opera  Company  does 
for  music.  Now  that  I  was  here,  filled  with  my  fine  proj 
ect,  it  seemed  a  happy  conjunction  of  the  time,  the  place, 
and  the  man. 

Often  as  I  had  sung  in  public  in  Scotia,  this  was  my 
first  visit  to  the  private  house  of  any  Scot.  Though  the 
new  castle  was  built  soon  afterward,  this  admirable  ex 
ample  of  a  Highland  country  home  still  stands  out  vividly 
in  memory.  Warm  was  the  hospitality  of  the  Master 
of  Skibo !  As  I  dressed  for  dinner  the  first  evening,  I 
heard  resounding  through  the  house  the  strains  of  an 
approaching  bagpipe  while  the  guests  were  assembling 
in  the  drawing  room,  and  presently,  playing  down  the 
hall,  a  magnificent  piper  in  full  Highland  costume  came 
to  the  door.  Thence  he  led  the  way,  Mr.  Carnegie  just 
behind,  to  the  dining  room,  walking  around  the  table 

269 


270       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

until  the  master's  chair  was  reached,  and  continuing  to 
stand  there  and  play  until  the  guests  were  seated.  He 
betook  himself  then  to  his  own  place,  playing  himself 
out  in  Scotland's  wholly  original  and  inspiriting  man 
ner.  We  heard  him  no  more  until  the  following  morn 
ing,  when  he  awoke  the  household  by  skreeling  for  half 
an  hour  beneath  our  windows,  marching  up  and  down  the 
terrace,  which  overlooked  a  glorious  lawn,  and  arousing 
us  in  fine  spirits  for  the  day. 

The  day  before  my  visit  came  to  an  end,  Mr.  Car 
negie  and  I  were  fishing  on  a  distant  loch,  which  gave 
me  a  further  opportunity  for  discussing  the  Classic  Thea 
tre  with  him.  He  was  unquestionably  interested,  but 
weighed  the  pros  and  cons  —  particularly  the  latter  — 
with  care.  He  did  not  think  the  country  ready  for  such 
an  enterprise;  I  did  not  agree  with  him.  I  believe  the 
time  came  long  ago  when  people  of  cultured  tastes  and 
no  great  means  would  interest  themselves  in  a  theatre 
where  plays  are  performed  which  they  are  willing  to 
hear,  and  to  have  their  children  hear,  acquainting  them 
as  they  grow  up  with  the  masterpieces  of  the  drama, 
whether  of  our  own  day  or  of  other  countries  and  other 
times,  and  with  the  greatest  examples  of  all  —  Shake 
speare  and  the  old  English  comedies. 

Mr.  Carnegie  himself  was  one  of  thousands  who  will 
not  squander  time  and  money  and  insult  their  intelligences 
by  attending  such  plays  as  are  often  provided,  to  the  ex 
clusion  of  the  masterpieces  found  enjoyable  by  the  peoples 
of  other  countries,  especially  of  France,  where  the  Co- 
medie  Franchise  serves  as  a  model  for  all  institutions 
such  as  Granville  Barker,  William  Archer,  and  others 
interested  in  developing  the  theatre  would  call  into 
being. 


A  BAFFLED  IDEAL  271 

Many  anecdotes  were  current  of  the  men  who  now 
direct  the  dramatic  destinies  of  America,  men  uninter 
ested  in  theatrical  progress,  unable  to  recognize  good 
drama  when  offered  them,  ignorant  of  the  past  of  the 
theatre  or  the  literature  of  the  stage,  and  without  hold 
ings  in  any  of  the  finer  arts.  To  one  of  these  came  a 
youthful  artist  with  sketches  for  the  scenery  and  cos 
tumes  of  a  forthcoming  production.  "  Who'll  carry 
them  out?"  asked  Mr.  Manager.  The  young  man  in 
a  spirit  of  pleasantry  suggested  the  name  of  Michael 
Angelo ;  with  the  unexpected  reply,  "  I'll  have  none  of 
those  damned  Irishmen  about  the  place !  " 

A  good  play  of  which  Major  Andre  was  the  hero  was 
brought  out  by  a  firm  of  Broadway  managers.  The 
public  was  not  attracted  by  the  story  of  a  British  spy 
in  Revolutionary  times,  and  the  play  was  a  failure.  Said 
one  partner  to  the  other,  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  Major 
Andre  was  a  spy?  "  Said  the  other  partner  to  the  one, 
"  How  did  I  know  he  was  a  spy!  " 

Mrs.  Sarah  Lemoyne  and  Otis  Skinner  put  on  the  stage 
as  a  play  Robert  Browning's  dramatic  poem,  "  In  a  Bal 
cony."  Such  a  work  produced  by  two  such  capable  actors 
attracted  the  most  favorable  attention  of  those  interested 
in  the  best,  wherever  the  piece  was  given.  News  of  its 
success  was  brought  to  one  of  the  gentry  who  then  com 
manded  Broadway,  and  he  was  asked  why  he  did  not 
do  something  of  the  same  sort.  "  Who  is  this  fellow 
Browning?"  he  asked;  and  he  was  told  that  Browning 
was  a  poet.  "  Well,"  said  the  manager,  "  tell  him  to 
come  around  Monday  and  show  me  some  of  his  stuff." 

As  Mr.  Carnegie  and  I  fished  and  talked  of  these 
things,  a  gentle  wind  blew  our  boat  up  the  lake,  far  from 
the  little  inn  where  we  had  left  the  brake  and  the  horses. 


272       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Mr.  Carnegie  listened  with  interest  to  my  idea  of  an 
exhaustive  dramatic  library  in  connection  with  the  Clas 
sic  Theatre,  a  library  which  should  contain  everything 
pertaining  to  the  history  of  the  drama :  rare  manu 
scripts  and  early  editions  of  the  plays  of  noted  authors 
acclaimed  in  other  countries,  with  books  of  costume,  of 
biography,  of  anecdotes,  and  of  criticism.  This  inter 
ested  the  Laird  of  Skibo  more  than  anything  else. 

By  that  time  our  boat  had  drifted  some  three  miles 
up  the  lake,  and  nearly  to  the  farther  end  of  it.  The 
ironmaster,  eying  his  watch  and  the  declining  sun,  ex 
claimed,  "  Good  gracious,  we  can't  row  all  the  way 
back !  How  are  we  going  to  make  the  men  know  we  wish 
to  return?"  A  brilliant  idea  struck  mine  host,  and  he 
said,  "  I  have  often  heard  you  sing  against  a  full  or 
chestra  in  the  Wagnerian  operas;  your  voice  must  be 
very  strong  to  carry  through  all  that  noise  " ;  and,  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  quietly  challenged  me  to  make 
myself  heard  the  length  of  that  three-mile  lake.  The 
breeze  had  died  down,  but  what  little  remained  was 
going  toward  the  inn.  I  lifted  my  voice,  half  singing  my 
call.  Those  afar  off  in  the  inn  heard  the  voice;  and 
out  came  tumbling  three  or  four  men,  two  of  them  the 
servants.  We  could  see  them  looking  this  side  and  that, 
not  thinking  of  the  little  speck  of  a  boat  so  far  away  on 
the  bosom  of  the  water.  Standing  up  I  waved  my  coat- 
less  arms  and  called  again,  bidding  them  bring  the  brake 
to  the  end  of  the  lake  and  pick  us  up.  Whether  I  used 
the  correct  method  of  deep  breathing,  I  know  not,  but 
my  ample  lungs  were  expanded,  my  diaphragm  in  good 
working  order,  and  my  nasal  resonance  in  the  finest  sort 
of  condition  that  afternoon,  and  my  words,  wafted  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind,  brought  the  desired  result.  I 


A  BAFFLED  IDEAL  273 

have  sung  out  of  doors  many  a  time,  but  I  doubt  if  an 
other  opera  singer  has  ever  done  what  I  did  then. 

Later  in  New  York  the  subject  of  the  Classic  Theatre 
was  broached  again  and,  at  Mr.  Carnegie's  request, 
though  without  committing  himself,  I  asked  my  friend, 
the  distinguished  architect,  Stanford  White,  to  make  me 
a  sketch  plan  of  such  a  building  as  I  proposed.  His 
attitude  reminded  me  of  the  story  of  two  Highland  poach 
ers,  who  were  fishing  on  a  lake  where  they  had  no  busi 
ness  to  be,  when  a  tremendous  storm  came  up,  a  Scotch 
mist  came  down,  and  the  waves  rose  so  high  their  little 
boat  was  threatened  with  immediate  swamping.  One 
pulled  with  all  his  might,  though  he  could  not  see  which 
way  they  were  heading,  while  the  other  knelt  among  the 
fish  in  the  bottom,  praying  the  Lord  to  deliver  him  and 
promising,  if  saved  that  time,  he  would  never  use  bad 
language  again,  never  drink  again,  never  poach  again, 
when  —  "  Hold  on!  "  cried  the  other,  "  hold  on,  Sandy, 
dinna  get  yerself  into  any  mair  obligations;  the  boat's 
ashore!" 

I  indicated  to  Mr.  Carnegie  the  place  where  I  should 
like  the  theatre  to  stand;  at  the  southern  end  of  Central 
Park,  between  Sixth  and  Seventh  avenues,  facing  south 
and  crowning  the  top  of  the  high,  rocky  hill  which  rises 
above  the  lake  far  beneath  and  to  the  east  of  it.  "  Ah  I  " 
said  Andrew,  as  we  drove  past,  "  the  Lord  must  have 
thought  of  this  as  the  place  for  your  theatre  when  He 
made  the  world."  He  then  took  me  to  see  his  new  house 
in  Fifth  Avenue;  it  was  nearly  completed  and  he  took 
me,  not  to  the  pinnacle  of  the  temple,  but  to  the  flat  part 
of  his  roof  and  there,  without  tempting  me  in  the  least, 
showed  me  certain  of  his  possessions,  the  New  York 
building  lots  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  with  the  remark, 


274       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

"How  strange  it  is  how  money  makes  money!  Some 
years  ago  when  I  bought  this  property  around  here,  my 
friends  thought  I  was  crazy.  Nobody  at  all  lived  up 
here  then,  and  they  thought  nobody  ever  would;  but  I 
tell  you  —  and  mark  my  words  —  within  fifty  years 
there  will  not  be  a  private  dwelling  house  on  the  whole 
of  Manhattan  Island. 

"  I  paid,"  continued  Mr.  Carnegie,  "  So-and-so  much 
for  this  land  and  it  seemed  a  high  price  then;  but  prop 
erty  has  so  risen  in  value  that  with  what  I  have  sold 
already,  including  that  lot  over  there  which  Mr.  Bel- 
mont  signed  for  yesterday,  I  have  regained,  not  only 
the  original  cost  of  the  land,  but  enough  more  to  build 
this  house  and  to  buy  the  whole  of  the  Skibo  estate  " — 
which  I  had  been  told  was  over  a  hundred  square  miles 
in  extent  — "  and  enough  more  to  build  the  new  castle 
I  am  contemplating;  and  yet  I  have  left  this  lot  and 
that  and  that,"  pointing  as  he  said  the  words  to  several 
lots  still  vacant  near  by. 

I  felt  no  pang  of  envy  of  that  rich  man,  for  a  kindlier 
soul  never  existed,  nor  one  readier  to  do  good  accord 
ing  to  his  lights.  My  own  few  wants  I  have  been  able 
to  supply  ever  since  I  left  my  $10  a  week  job  in  the  wool 
trade  and  entered  into  the  less  tangible  pursuit  of  song, 
and  I  have  often  wondered  what  I  should  do  with  money 
if  I  had  a  large  amount  of  it.  I  think  I  should  found 
the  Classic  Theatre. 

Mr.  Carnegie  then  lived  at  No.  i,  West  Fifty-first 
Street,  and  asked  me  to  lunch  and  bring  the  sketch  Stan 
ford  White  had  made.  During  the  meal  our  host  spoke 
of  his  fondness  for  acting  and  of  his  early  youth  as  a  tele 
graph  boy  in  Pittsburgh,  when  he  and  his  companions 
would  postpone  delivering  telegrams  received  toward  the 


A  BAFFLED  IDEAL  275 

close  of  the  day  and  addressed  to  the  theatre,  until  the 
box  office  opened.  Andrew  and  the  other  boys,  poor  then 
but  rich  now,  when  they  took  the  messages  over  would 
ask  if  they  might  not  have  seats  in  the  gallery  to  see  the 
play.  In  this  way  the  young  enthusiast  saw  many  a  shin 
ing  dramatic  light.  It  was  truly  enjoyable  to  hear  him 
tell  of  the  encounters  he  and  the  other  lads  would  have 
spouting  Shakespeare  and  shouting,  "  Lay  on,  Macduff !  " 
beating  each  other  about  the  back  yard  of  the  telegraph 
office  with  swords  made  of  laths  and  bucklers  from  the 
heads  of  empty  barrels. 

Such  an  encounter  was  in  progress  when  young  Andrew 
saw  the  fight  from  the  back  second-story  window.  At 
his  side  stood  a  bucket  of  water,  and  near  it  a  tangled 
mass  of  the  tape  used  for  stock  quotations.  Soaking  a 
double  handful  of  this  in  the  dirty  water,  just  as  a  youth 
ful  tragedian  below  felled  his  opponent  with  a  doughty 
blow  of  his  broadsword  while  the  vanquished  one  lay 
crying  for  mercy,  Andrew  let  fly  the  dripping  tape  straight 
into  the  open  mouth  of  a  boy  who  is  now  another  of  the 
world's  richest  men. 

Jumping  up  from  the  table  with  a  hearty  laugh  Mr. 
Carnegie  said,  "  Come  now,  come !  I  am  all  eagerness 
to  see  the  plans."  With  excitement  I  laid  the  precious 
drawing  upon  a  little  table  in  a  bow  window  of  the  library. 
Many  a  time  since  have  I  seen  that  spot,  and  thought  of 
what  ensued. 

Soon  after  this  I  was  asked  to  speak  at  the  Art  Thea 
tre  Society,  but  postponed  for  several  days  making  any 
notes  of  what  I  intended  to  say,  and  the  night  before  the 
meeting  went  to  bed  feeling  concerned  about  the  address 
expected  of  me.  I  had  just  dozed  off,  when  suddenly  I 
found  myself  wide  awake.  Springing  out  of  bed  I  rap- 


276       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

idly  wrote  down  what  had  come  into  my  mind  on  the  in 
stant,  and  when  called  upon  at  the  dinner  read  the  follow 
ing: 

THE    EPISTLE   OF   DAVID 

A  manuscript  has  lately  been  brought  to  light,  dating 
from  the  first  century  A.  C.,  and  bearing  closely  upon  the 
well-known  Gospel  according  to  Andrew.  The  narrative 
has  every  internal  evidence  of  being  genuine,  and  is  a  col 
loquy  which  took  place  about  the  first  year  of  the  reign  of 
Theodorus  the  Strenuous,  between  Andrew,  surnamed 
Croesus,  and  David,  the  Singer  of  the  Church  at  Phila 
delphia.  To  David  are  we  indebted  for  its  preservation. 
It  reads  thus : 

I,  David,  had  traveled  much  and  had  seen  the  theatres  at 
Athens  and  at  Rome,  and  had  approved  the  judgment  of  Paris, 
and  with  a  deep  thought  in  my  mind  I  journeyed  to  the  Land  of 
Scotia  and  abode  certain  days  in  the  hill  country  in  the  castle 
of  Andrew  the  Rich,  surnamed  Croesus. 

Now  Andrew  the  Rich  is  of  small  stature  but  of  great  heart, 
whose  head  ruleth  and  his  hand  is  stayed.  And  Andrew  treated 
kindly  his  visitor,  David  the  Singer ;  and  unto  him  at  a  propitious 
moment  David  made  known  his  desires,  saying: 

O,  Andrew,  thou  hast  flocks  and  herds  and  lands  and  palaces. 
Are  not  thy  riches  famed  even  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth? 
Naught  is  impossible  unto  thee. 

Come  now,  therefore,  be  it  known  unto  thee  that  the  New 
World  crieth  out  for  a  worthy  home  for  the  drama.  Do  thou, 
therefore,  build  us  a  theatre,  even  a  Temple  unto  Thespis  like 
unto  naught  the  world  hath  seen  before.  Let  not  the  unbelieving 
daunt  thee. 

Build  thee  not,  O,  Andrew  the  Rich,  a  place  alone  for  the 
presentment  of  the  grace  of  dancers,  but  for  the  elevation  of  the 
mind  of  man,  and  if  so  it  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight,  secure  it  well 
and  grapple  it  unto  thy  heart  with  bonds  of  steel. 

Do  thou  call  its  name  The  Institution  of  the  Classic  Theatre, 
wherein  the  greatest  works  of  men  may  be  performed  in  the 


A  BAFFLED  IDEAL  277 

vulgar  tongue  understanded  of  all  the  world;  that  men  may  flock 
thither  and  partake  of  the  benefits  of  thy  largess. 

And  Andrew  pondered  these  things  and  then  he  spake:  O, 
David,  in  pleasant  converse  there  is  much  delight,  and  in  thy 
mind  there  is  a  mighty  thought.  Tell  me  now,  I  pray  thee,  how 
great  a  price  hast  thou  deemed  should  be  paid  for  such  a  work? 

And  I  answered  and  said:  O,  Andrew,  do  thou  apportion 
and  set  apart  for  this  work  ten  millions  of  sestertii,  and  do  thou 
take  counsel  of  such  and  such  men,  skilled  in  letters,  poets,  and 
wise  men  of  affairs ;  and  do  thou  form  affiliations  with  institu 
tions  of  learning,  both  for  men  and  women,  in  the  land  of  thine 
adoption;  and  do  thou  bind  together  such  of  those  whose  busi 
ness  drama  is,  and  take  thou  advice  even  as  to  the  foundation  of 
a  true  profession  whereof  the  men  and  maidens  of  our  land,  of 
good  education  and  birth,  may  be  proud. 

And  Andrew  answered  and  said:  Verily,  how  noble  a  deed 
would  this  be,  could  there  be  but  found  the  actors,  who  could 
present  worthily  the  plays  thou  namest.  And  then  I  showed 
unto  him  the  names  of  these,  and  spake  of  the  great  ones  skilled 
in  acting,  who  would  be  bespoken  to  perform  even  upon  the  stage 
of  the  theatre  which  he  had  builded,  and  of  the  rising  generation 
who  would  follow  in  the  paths  his  wisdom  had  shown. 

But  Andrew  questioned  and  looked  on  all  sides,  as  is  his  wont, 
and  he  said:  If  thou  sayest  that  there  be  men  who  can  present 
worthily  these  plays,  then  to  whom  can  they  play  them?  For 
verily  I  perceive  an  audience  will  be  lacking,  nor  do  I  believe  it 
is  in  the  heart  of  the  people  to  interest  themselves  at  all  in  this 
matter. 

Have  I  not  builded  an  hall  and  founded  it  in  my  own  name? 
And  did  I  not  place  therein  Walter  the  Musician?  And,  verily, 
he  piped,  but  the  people  danced  not  unto  his  piping!  Nor  came 
they  to  hear  his  music  in  sufficient  numbers,  and  my  venture  re 
warded  me  not.  Truly,  in  order  that  I  should  not  lose,  I  builded 
me  studios  upon  the  building.  Howbeit,  continue!  Thine  en 
thusiasm  almost  persuadeth  me. 

Then  I  enlarged  and  unfolded  to  him  all  that  was  in  my 
thought;  and  he  strode  to  and  fro  within  the  room,  and  his 
hands  worked  beneath  the  raiment  behind  him.  And  he  spake 
in  a  low  voice,  as  if  unto  himself  saying: 


278       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Of  the  making  of  books  there  is  no  end,  and  they  shall  not  go 
houseless.  Verily  am  I  sent  to  prepare  a  place  for  them.  I  will 
build  me  libraries  that  my  name  shall  live  among  men  on  the 
earth  for  ever! 

And  after  a  time  we  crossed  over  and  came  to  the  other  side 
of  the  sea,  and  met  again  in  the  New  World.  And  there  I 
spake  to  him  further  on  the  matter,  saying:  O,  Andrew,  be  thou 
informed  that  no  fame  like  unto  the  fame  of  having  builded 
such  a  temple  of  art  can  belong  to  any  man,  and  the  glory  of 
thy  name  shall  be  undying. 

Thereupon  Andrew  said:  O,  for  thine  enthusiasm!  Had  I 
thine  enthusiasm  I  should  own  the  world!  Do  thou  bring  me 
a  plan  of  the  temple  I  should  build.  And  he  fixed  a  day  to  see 
the  same. 

And  I  departed  and  took  counsel  of  a  great  architect,  who 
made  me  certain  drawings,  and  I  went  and  sat  at  meat  with 
Andrew  in  his  own  house,  wotting  not  that  one  of  his  kinsmen 
there  was  also  a  builder  of  edifices.  And  after  we  had  broken 
bread,  Andrew  called  for  the  parchment  and  marveled  at  the 
dignity  and  beauty  of  the  art  of  the  great  architect  who  had 
conceived  them.  Then,  turning  toward  his  kinsman,  he  said  unto 
me: 

If  thou  wilt  have  this  young  man  to  build  me  the  theatre,  lo, 
I  will  have  my  purse  bearer  pay  unto  thee  ten  million  sestertii. 
Whereat  his  wife  and  those  who  stood  by  rejoiced  greatly;  but  I 
departed  with  mingled  feelings  in  my  heart  and  sought  out  the 
architect,  and  told  him  what  had  befallen. 

He  smote  upon  his  thigh  saying:  By  all  the  gods,  let  it  be 
so.  I  care  not  who  the  builder  be,  so  long  as  thy  servant  may 
oversee  the  work.  Thy  thought  is  so  mighty  that  it  must  be 
put  into  form,  no  matter  who  doeth  it.  Go  thou  then  and  say 
unto  Andrew  as  I  have  told  thee,  and  bid  his  kinsman  come 
straightway  and  consult  with  me. 

Then  went  I  in  haste  and  wrote  unto  Andrew  what  the  ar 
chitect  had  said.  But  the  next  day  there  came  no  word  from  him 
whose  surname  is  Croesus,  and  a  great  fear  fell  upon  me. 

The  second  day  came  a  letter  from  Andrew  bidding  me  re 
member  well  that  of  the  making  of  books  there  was  no  end, 


A  BAFFLED  IDEAL  279 

and  that  the  housing  of  them  was  as  the  breath  of  his  life.  He 
had  considered  my  plan  well,  determining  that  the  man  who 
builded  the  theatre  would  be  a  benefactor  of  mankind,  but  he 
said: 

Though  in  pleasant  converse  there  is  much  delight,  yet  many 
words  may  be  had  without  money  and  for  small  price.  Utopia 
is  no  more,  neither  is  the  time  ripe  for  the  realization  of  thy 
dream.  Therefore  I  pray  thee,  have  me  excused. 

So  I  returned  to  my  abode,  desolate,  and  pondered  over  these 
things  in  my  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

ACROSS    SEAS   AND    CONTINENTS 

There  is  no  feeling,  perhaps,  except  the  extremes  of  fear  and  grief, 
that  does  not  find  relief  in  music  —  that  does  not  make  a  man  sing  or  play 
better. —  George  Eliot. 

EARLY  in  1900  I  began  my  experiment  of  reciting  to 
music  with  Tennyson's  "  Enoch  Arden,"  to  which  Richard 
Strauss  had  fitted  the  music.  Ernst  Possart,  the  German 
actor,  had  been  giving  the  piece  in  extenso  with  the  com 
poser  at  the  piano,  and  George  Riddle  had  rendered  it  in 
America  with  a  few  cuts  in  the  text;  but  I  deliberately 
omitted  enough  of  the  unaccompanied  lines  to  bring  the 
performance  within  an  hour  when  I  tried  it  out  at  a  few 
private  hearings,  and  ended  my  program  with  some  of 
Strauss's  songs. 

The  most  satisfactory  of  these  musical  recitations  has 
been  Longfellow's  "  King  Robert  of  Sicily,"  with  the  noble 
music  of  Rossetter  G.  Cole.  The  poem  is  a  clear-cut, 
plain-sailing,  straightaway  story,  with  incident  enough  to 
hold  the  attention,  characterization  enough  to  avoid  mo 
notony,  opportunity  enough  to  display  every  inflection  of 
the  speaking  voice,  and  the  final  advantage  of  being  fa 
miliar  to  every  one  in  the  audience,  with  effects  greatly 
enhanced  by  organ  tones  in  the  accompaniment. 

The  manuscript  of  Arthur  Bergh's  fine  musical  setting 
of  Poe's  "  Raven  "  had  just  been  submitted  to  me  when 
I  received  a  telephone  message  from  a  professor  at  the 
New  York  College  asking  me  to  read  the  poem  at  the  ap 
proaching  centenary  celebration  of  its  author's  birthday, 

280 


ACROSS  SEAS  AND  CONTINENTS  281 

with  the  intention  of  compelling  the  inclusion  of  Edgar 
Allan  Poe's  name  with  those  of  other  American  worthies 
in  the  Hall  of  Fame,  a  colonnade  running  around  the  as 
sembly  hall  of  the  college.  I  replied  that  I  was  at  the 
moment  looking  over  Mr.  Bergh's  music,  and  promised 
to  render  it.  My  reading,  with  the  composer  at  the 
piano,  took  place  at  the  end  of  a  program  in  which  emi 
nent  men  spoke  in  praise  of  Poe,  and  I  like  to  think  that 
my  contribution  aided  in  changing  the  hearts  of  the  nom 
inating  committee,  which  soon  after  added  the  poet's 
name  to  those  of  the  other  Immortals. 

In  giving  this  I  act  out  the  character  of  the  distraught 
and  grief-stricken  soul,  tormented  by  the  hallucination 
of  the  raven's  entering  his  room  to  reiterate  the  cheer 
less  refrain  of  "  Nevermore."  I  think  this  the  one  ar 
tistic  interpretation,  enabling  me  to  enact  the  part  of  a 
man  driven  mad  by  memories  of  a  lost  love;  and  deem 
this  to  be  the  only  possible  rendering  of  the  piece,  to  which 
the  accompaniment  is  entirely  suitable.  Mr.  Bergh  has 
also  adorned  "  The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,"  Robert 
Browning's  narrative  written  for  a  child,  with  music  as 
exquisite  and  fantastically  fitting  as  that  to  "  The  Raven  " 
is  full  of  tragedy. 

I  also  use  the  accompaniment  written  by  Max  Schillings 
for  Wildenbruch's  gruesome  ballad,  "  The  Witch's  Song," 
which  demands  a  full  orchestra  for  its  best  effect.  I  have 
performed  it  in  this  way  a  number  of  times,  of  which  the 
most  notable  was  with  the  Chicago  Orchestra  under  the 
conductorship  of  Frederick  Stock,  for  which  several  in 
teresting  rehearsals  were  held.  After  the  second  of  the 
week's  pair  of  performances  I  was  honored  with  a  re 
quest  from  the  orchestra  committee  to  repeat  the  work  at 
a  special  concert  the  week  following.  This  rare  distinc- 


282       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

tion  had  been  previously  conferred  upon  but  two  artists, 
Ysaye  the  violinist  and  D' Albert  the  pianist,  leaving  me 
the  first  vocalist  to  receive  it. 

I  freely  confess  that  my  fondness  for  reciting  to  music 
is  primarily  due  to  my  love  of  the  histrionic  art.  In  de 
fault  of  other  dramatic  chances,  I  am  thus  able  to  combine 
my  love  for  music  with  my  ambition  to  act.  But  let  me 
warn  those  who  intend  to  devote  themselves  to  melo 
drama  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  do  acceptably.  The 
music  so  covers  the  tones  of  the  speaking  voice  that  both 
power  and  clearness  of  utterance  beyond  the  average  are 
demanded,  yet  the  vocal  tone  must  have  distinct  reserve, 
never  trespassing  upon  the  region  of  song.  In  spite  of 
the  fact  that  the  female  voice  is  essentially  less  effective 
in  speech  than  in  song,  this  difficult  task  is  much  more 
frequently  attempted  by  women  than  by  men.  I  think 
this  desire  to  perform  the  impossible  results  from  the 
greater  artistic  enthusiasm  of  our  sisters,  who  allow 
themselves  to  be  carried  away  by  impulse  where  men 
think  twice  before  embarking  upon  so  unusual  and  so 
technical  a  venture. 

Often  as  I  have  indulged  myself  in  this  form  of  art, 
and  thoroughly  as  my  efforts  have  been  enjoyed  by  my 
hearers,  the  leading  music  critics  of  America  seem  to 
feel  that  the  words  and  music  stand  in  each  other's  way; 
that  the  text  cannot  be  understood  for  the  music,  or 
the  music  for  the  text.  As  this  seems  to  me  like  the  an 
cient  complaint  of  the  man  who  could  not  see  the  forest 
for  the  trees,  I  have  gone  on  in  my  own  fashion,  partly 
because  I  enjoy  reciting  to  music  so  much  myself,  and 
partly  because  I  have  repeated  proofs  that  my  audiences 
enjoy  it  too.  Certainly  the  happy  wedding  of  music  to 
dramatic  art  cannot  result  in  illegitimacy. 


ACROSS  SEAS  AND  CONTINENTS  283 

In  February,  1900,  I  was  invited  to  sing  at  the  execu 
tive  mansion  in  Albany,  New  York,  while  Theodore 
Roosevelt  was  governor  of  the  State.  I  had  met  this 
eminent  American  more  than  once  and  knew  members 
of  his  family,  and  was  'specially  asked  that  evening  by 
Mrs.  Roosevelt  to  sing  for  her  guests  from  the  best  in 
my  repertory,  which  included  classic  songs  and  old  Eng 
lish  lyrics  to  end  with,  but  was  as  particularly  requested 
not  to  sing  my  war  horse,  "  Danny  Deever,"  my  hostess 
thinking  it  so  gruesome  a  piece  of  realism  that  she  pre 
ferred  not  to  be  harrowed  by  it  again.  Surely  this  was  a 
compliment  as  great  as  that  paid  me  afterward  at  the 
White  House  by  President  Roosevelt  himself. 

In  the  spring  of  1900  Walter  Damrosch  organized  a 
tour  during  which  Madame  Gad-ski  and  I  rendered  Wag- 
nerian  selections  separately  and  together  to  Mr.  Dam- 
rosch's  admirable  piano  accompaniment.  After  a  few 
concerts  in  the  Eastern  States,  he  opened  his  season  on  the 
Pacific  Coast  at  the  Simpson  Auditorium  in  Los  Angeles, 
on  March  2.  I  had  first  to  fill  some  engagements  in  Chi 
cago,  the  last  of  which  was  with  the  Apollo  Club  on  the 
evening  of  February  26.  I  took  the  midnight  train  for 
Los  Angeles,  where  my  associates  had  preceded  me,  due 
to  arrive  the  morning  of  our  opening.  Awakening  next 
day  I  found  the  train  so  stuck  in  a  snowdrift  on  the 
prairie  that  several  hours  were  lost  in  getting  through. 
The  following  day  was  like  midsummer,  and  a  succession 
of  hot  boxes  held  us  up.  The  third  day  a  bridge,  nearly 
washed  away  by  an  Arizona  cloudburst,  delayed  me  more. 
My  anxiety  was  great  lest  I  miss  my  concert.  A  Los 
Angeles  newspaper  that  met  the  train  published  our  pro 
gram,  which  I  ran  over  and,  after  getting  into  evening 
clothes,  I  stepped  from  the  express  into  a  cab  and  arrived 


284       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

after  a  journey  of  some  2500  miles  at  the  door  of  the 
concert  room  on  the  minute  of  8:15,  the  manager  greet 
ing  me  with  the  flattering  statement  that  my  reputation 
for  promptness  and  reliability  was  so  great  that  he  knew 
I  would  have  found  some  way  to  reach  the  concert  even 
if  our  train  had  broken  down. 

Thus  began  the  first  of  many  successful  tours  on  the 
Pacific  Coast,  all  of  interest  but  not  different  from  con- 
certizing  elsewhere,  always  excepting  the  climate,  the 
scenery,  and  a  sense  of  freedom  not  found  elsewhere. 
The  idea  of  the  Classic  Theatre  was  still  uppermost 
in  my  mind,  in  spite  of  my  disappointment  at  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Carnegie,  and  I  suggested  the  foundation  of  such 
an  institution  to  Mrs.  Phoebe  Hearst.  She  was  inter 
ested  then,  and  had  it  still  in  mind  when  I  called  upon 
her  in  New  York  afterward,  going  so  far  as  to  say  that 
she  would  be  glad  to  cooperate  with  others  in  providing 
the  money  necessary  for  die  enterprise.  She  asked  me 
why  I  did  not  appeal  to  her  son,  William  Randolph 
Hearst,  saying  that  she  believed  he  might  take  it  up.  I 
did  not  feel  that  I  knew  Mr.  Hearst  well  enough  to 
approach  him,  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  his  mother 
may  have  done  so,  for  it  was  not  long  before  the  Greek 
Theatre  at  Berkeley  was  built  by  him. 

This  beautiful  structure,  modeled  after  the  Athenian 
amphitheatres,  is  an  outstanding  feature  in  the  artistic 
life  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  Without  fear  of  interruption 
from  the  elements,  large  audiences  may  gather  in  the 
open  air  within  its  ample  confines  to  hear  fine  music,  see 
great  plays  and  marvelous  pageants,  by  day  or  at  night, 
and  many  such  celebrities  as  Sarah  Bernhardt  and  Mar 
garet  Anglin  have  begun  there  a  tradition  of  artistic 
loveliness  which  will  doubtless  prove  lasting. 


ACROSS  SEAS  AND  CONTINENTS  285 

Our  journey  took  us  as  far  as  Portland,  Oregon, 
whence  we  returned  by  way  of  Winnipeg,  St.  Paul,  and 
Minneapolis,  meeting  on  the  way  a  little  Italian  con 
cert  party  headed  by  Madame  Sophia  Scalchi,  then  near-, 
ing  the  close  of  her  career,  but  remembered  by  me  from 
my  youth;  the  majesty  of  her  art  in  roles  of  the  old  Ital 
ian  repertory,  particularly  her  Orfeo  in  Gluck's  mas 
terpiece,  is  never  to  be  forgotten.  Madame  Scalchi 
boarded  a  train  at  a  place  in  Dakota,  and  I  wondered 
at  so  eminent  an  artist's  visiting  so  small  a  town.  But 
in  a  country  like  ours,  its  builders  have  gone  from  the 
larger  centres  in  the  East,  where  they  were  formerly 
acquainted  with  good  music  and  are  in  their  new  sur 
roundings  in  constant  need  of  it  to  lighten  their  lives. 
It  was  not  long  before  I  myself  was  besought  to  travel 
to  all  sorts  of  places,  where  the  women  and  their  clubs 
demanded  the  influence  of  music.  Many  little  towns  of 
twenty  years  ago  are  large  cities  now,  and  I  look  back 
with  pride  in  having  helped  to  bring  the  comfort  of  song 
to  many  thousands  of  thirsty  souls. 

Returning  to  New  York  I  revived  my  Beethoven 
play  "  Adelaide,"  the  title  role  played  charmingly  by 
Hilda  Spong,  with  Mr.  Damrosch  presiding  over  the 
orchestra. 

Immediately  after  this  I  left  for  Detroit,  where  I 
performed  "  Elijah,"  and  after  much  work  of  great  vari 
ety  under  other  distinguished  auspices,  I  took  part,  for 
the  second  time,  in  the  Cincinnati  Festival  of  1900  under 
Theodore  Thomas,  at  whose  concerts  in  Chicago  I  had 
sung  earlier  in  the  season.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
festival  I  appeared  in  Rochester,  New  York,  in  joint 
recital  with  the  celebrated  Kneisel  String  Quartette. 
An  enthusiastic  audience  protracted  the  concert,  though 


286       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

both  Kneisel  and  myself  had  to  catch  night  trains  to  keep 
our  respective  engagements  the  next  evening.  They 
went  to  Chicago,  and  I  to  Columbus,  Ohio,  to  sing  with 
the  Arion  Club.  Though  I  rendered  three  groups  of 
songs  with  encores  for  the  first  and  second  groups,  at 
Rochester,  it  was  impossible  to  give  an  encore  to  my  third 
appearance.  I  barely  caught  the  train  as  it  was;  while 
Kneisel  and  his  associates,  ending  the  program  with  the 
Quartette  by  Grieg,  were  also  obliged  to  cut  short  their 
acknowledgments  of  the  pleasure  of  the  audience.  As 
a  result  we  were  severely  criticized  in  the  next  morning's 
papers.  That  we  had  played  and  sung  well  was  not  the 
point;  we  were  taken  to  task  because  we  had  not  played 
and  sung  more. 

When  I  returned  to  London  that  year  I  was  asked  to 
appear  in  opera  in  Spain,  and  subsequently  was  obliged 
to  decline  an  invitation  from  the  Royal  Opera  of  Berlin. 
Indeed  I  have  never  sung  professionally  on  the  Con 
tinent,  being  so  constantly  occupied  in  England  and 
America.  London  was  kind  enough  to  keep  me  busy, 
and  my  intercourse  with  persons  of  distinction  in  the 
musical  world  was  as  interesting  as  ever,  including  among 
others  frequent  association  with  Kubelik,  whom  I  first 
met  at  the  house  of  his  patroness,  Lady  Palmer,  who 
gave  the  black-haired  wizard  of  the  violin  a  Stradivarius 
said  to  be  worth  2000  guineas.  Sir  Walter  Palmer,  her 
husband  —  they  are  both  gone  now  —  was  of  Quaker 
stock,  a  kindly  man  whose  wife  was  a  miniature  Ellen 
Terry  with  a  flair  for  celebrities  and  a  piano  seldom  in 
tune. 

Before  leaving  England  in  October,  1900,  I  again  took 
part  in  the  Birmingham  Festival  under  the  conductorship 
of  Richter;  singing  in  Bach's  "  Passion  Music,"  Brahms's 


ACROSS  SEAS  AND  CONTINENTS  287 

"  Requiem,"  Dvorak's  "  The  Spectre's  Bride,"  and  other 
works.  Edward  Elgar's  "  Dream  of  Gerontius  "  was 
then  first  produced,  and  another  English  composer  lifted 
to  the  pinnacle  of  fame. 

During  its  performance  I  sat  behind  the  wife  and 
daughter  of  Edward  Lloyd,  the  tenor  to  whom  had  been 
assigned  the  title  role.  Nearing  the  end  of  his  career 
as  he  was,  and  not  in  his  usually  good  voice,  I  knew  him 
to  be  very  nervous  over  the  task  before  him.  The  solo 
ists  sat  in  chairs  on  either  side  of  the  conductor  as  is 
customary,  rising  to  sing  and  seating  themselves  when 
finished.  In  "  The  Dream  of  Gerontius "  the  tenor 
seems  to  be  for  ever  rising  and  sitting  down  again.  I 
could  hear  Madame  Lloyd  speaking  to  her  daughter 
quietly,  nervous  for  her  husband  so  ill  at  ease  himself. 
At  last  Mrs.  Lloyd  could  contain  herself  no  longer,  and 
her  stage  whisper  must  have  been  audible  to  many  be 
sides  me,  as  she  said,  "  Mary,  if  your  father  gets  up 
again  I  shall  scream !  " 

At  this  festival  was  performed,  though  not  for  the 
first  time,  the  beautiful  music  to  Longfellow's  "  Song  of 
Hiawatha,"  by  the  gifted  English  negro  composer,  S. 
Coleridge-Taylor,  a  musical  genius  of  whom  more  than 
passing  mention  should  be  made. 

English  audiences  do  not  share  the  American  aversion 
to  persons  of  African  descent  in  connection  with  serious 
music.  Coleridge-Taylor  was  much  in  demand  to  conduct 
his  own  choral  work,  and  was  invariably  cheered  to  the 
echo  by  chorus  and  audience  alike.  He  was  a  pleasant  and 
highly  educated  man,  and  reminded  one  in  his  personal 
appearance  strongly  of  Beethoven.  Early  in  Sir  Hubert 
Parry's  directorship  of  the  Royal  College  of  Music,  I 
was  invited  to  hear  a  quintette  composed  by  Coleridge- 


288       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Taylor,  then  a  highly  esteemed  student  there.  It  was 
rendered  for  the  benefit  of  no  less  a  personage  than 
Doctor  Joseph  Joachim,  with  whom  and  Villiers  Stan 
ford  I  went  to  listen  to  this  fine  composition,  afterward 
performed  by  Joachim  and  his  associates  in  Berlin. 
When  "  Hiawatha  "  was  performed  at  Birmingham  in 
1900,  Doctor  Richter  conducted  it  at  the  composer's  re 
quest;  it  need  not  be  said  that  such  distinguished  mu 
sicians  would  not  have  recognized  Coleridge-Taylor  thus 
had  he  not  possessed  more  than  ordinary  musical  ability. 

He  had  consulted  me,  before  coming  to  America,  about 
his  chances  of  success  in  conducting  his  own  work,  which 
he  hoped  to  have  performed  by  our  choral  bodies;  and  I 
regretfully  informed  him  that  the  feeling  in  the  United 
States  against  people  of  his  race,  owing  to  their  former 
enslavement,  was  such  that  the  only  engagements  he  could 
obtain  would  be  with  negro  choral  societies;  and  this  in 
deed  was  unfortunately  the  case. 

One  day  in  London  I  received  a  visit  from  a  gentle 
man  who  brought  me  such  songs  by  Coleridge-Taylor  as 
were  suitable  for  my  voice,  asking  me  to  sing  them  as 
often  as  I  could  in  order  to  introduce  to  the  public  the 
young  genius  whose  supporter  he  had  been,  explaining 
that  he  was  taking  to  other  musicians  vocal  and  instru 
mental  compositions  suitable  to  their  talents  written  by 
his  protege.  He  said  that  with  this  final  step  his  as 
sociation  with  Coleridge-Taylor  ended,  though  it  had 
lasted  from  the  composer's  infancy,  and  told  me  the  fol 
lowing  story. 

He  was  a  bachelor  of  large  means  living  near  London, 
with  only  one  desire  —  to  discover  and  educate  musically 
gifted  English  youth.  More  than  twenty  years  before 
he  learned  of  the  remarkable  talent  of  a  negro  child, 


ACROSS  SEAS  AND  CONTINENTS  289 

whose  mother  was  a  servant  in  a  lodging  house.  He 
went  to  see  her  there,  and  heard  her  dusky  four-year-old 
child  play  almost  incredibly  well,  standing  before  an  in 
ferior  upright  piano.  Inquiring  into  the  child's  history, 
he  learned  from  his  white  mother  that  the  father  was  a 
full-blooded  negro  from  Sierra  Leone,  Africa,  sent  to 
London  to  be  trained  as  a  medical  assistant  to  the  mis 
sionaries  when  he  went  back  to  his  native  land.  His 
father  had  left  England  never  to  return,  and  the  child's 
benefactor  entered  into  an  agreement  with  the  mother 
by  which  her  son  was  to  be  thoroughly  educated,  special 
attention  being,  of  course,  paid  to  music.  The  young 
composer's  benefactor,  far  from  regretting  his  action, 
professed  sincere  admiration  for  Coleridge-Taylor  both 
as  man  and  musician. 

It  is  said  that,  at  a  dinner  party  given  Coleridge-Taylor 
by  some  of  his  own  people  in  New  York,  the  host,  while 
carving  a  fine  turkey,  jocularly  asked  the  composer  if  he 
would  have  some  of  what  is  called  our  "  national  bird," 
to  which  he  replied  as  he  passed  his  plate,  "  Thanks 
awfully;  but  do  you  really  mean  it  is  an  eagle?  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

GOING  TO   AND   FRO 

God  is  its  author,  and  not  man;  He  laid 
The  keynote  of  all  harmonies  He  planned, 

All  perfect  combinations ;  and  He  made 
Us  so  that  we  could  hear  and  understand. 
—  J.  J.  Br ainar d. 

EMULATING  the  example  of  Satan  was  I  during  the 
busy  autumn  of  1900,  "  going  to  and  fro  in  the  earth, 
and  .  .  .  walking  up  and  down  in  it."  My  second  visit 
to  the  Pacific  Coast  was  with  the  company  from  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House  of  New  York;  one  of  high 
distinction,  as  ever,  with  the  names  of  Mesdames  Melba, 
Nordica,  Eames,  Gadski,  Schumann-Heink,  and  Olitzka, 
with  Edoward  de  Reszke,  Van  Dyck,  and  many  other 
prime  favorites  with  the  public.  I  sang  frequently,  and 
in  the  parts  with  which  my  name  was  associated. 

At  Christmas  and  other  times  I  sang  in  oratorio,  and 
brought  out  in  concert  such  new  works  as  Liza  Leh- 
mann's  setting  of  "  In  Memoriam  "  and  Arthur  Somer- 
velPs  "  Maud,"  Tennyson's  fine  poems  fitted  to  beautiful 
though  somewhat  somber  music.  American  composers 
were  also  urged  upon  the  public  attention,  for  I  sang 
the  songs  of  Howard  Brockway,  Herman  Wetzler,  and 
John  Alden  Carpenter,  who  has  come  to  be  one  of  the 
best  of  our  native  writers.  Singing  with  me  were  Miss 
Lillian  Blauvelt,  the  soprano,  Mrs.  Morris  Black,  known 
in  the  opera  houses  of  Europe  as  Madame  Cahier,  and 
the  late  Evan  Williams,  a  Welsh  tenor  with  a  voice  of 

290 


GOING  TO  AND  FRO  291 

gold.  Several  times  I  appeared  at  miscellaneous  enter 
tainments  with  Monsieur  Coquelin  and  Madame  Sarah 
Bernhardt,  whose  impersonation  of  Hamlet  that  season 
afforded  me  the  most  interesting  evening  I  ever  spent 
in  a  theatre. 

Early  in  1901  I  sang  at  the  Philharmonic  Society's 
concerts  in  New  York,  under  the  conductorship  of  Emil 
Paur,  Richard  Strauss's  noble  songs,  "  Hymnus "  and 
"  Pilgers  Morgenlied,"  settings  of  poems  by  Schiller  and 
Goethe  respectively.  Though  I  know  of  no  other  singer 
who  has  thus  paired  these  compositions,  I  recommend 
them  to  the  attention  of  all  barytones. 

In  opera  that  season  we  had  Madame  Milka  Ternina, 
a  Croatian  whose  majestic  appearance,  splendid  voice,  and 
great  histrionic  power  placed  her  high  in  public  esteem. 
Walter  Damrosch  first  brought  her  to  America,  but  some 
mysterious  nervous  trouble  kept  her  from  appearing 
after  she  had  been  announced.  Upon  her  recovery  she 
rendered  Wagner's  heroines  superbly,  her  Isolde  being 
one  of  the  best  I  have  ever  seen.  There  was  never  an 
artist  more  serious,  but  once  when  I  was  singing  with 
her  in  "  Tristan  und  Isolde,"  as  I  came  forward  on  the 
deck  of  the  ship  in  the  first  act  to  tell  her  my  master 
would  have  speech  with  her,  to  my  amused  amazement 
the  stately  Ternina  calmly  winked  her  right  eye  at  me, 
not  once  but  several  times.  She  forgot  her  lines  as  she 
did  so,  but  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  remain  silent  till 
she  had  collected  herself,  coming  in  at  a  convenient  place 
in  the  music  soon  after.  While  she  was  silent  she  crossed 
the  stage,  contrary  to  the  directions,  and  forced  me  to 
accommodate  myself  to  the  new  situation,  sorrowfully 
realizing  why  she  had  taken  so  unusual  a  course.  For 
her  cheek  thus  turned  from  the  audience,  after  her  wink- 


292       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ing  had  become  constant,  began  to  twitch  in  a  most  pain 
ful  manner.  No  operations  on  the  nerves  of  her  face 
gave  permanent  relief,  and  in  her  forced  retirement  the 
stage  lost  a  brilliant  ornament. 

Jean  de  Reszke  was  stricken  by  influenza  early  in  the 
year,  and  sang  only  a  few  times  after  his  recovery.  An 
dreas  Dippel,  from  whose  tongue  opera  seemed  to  slip, 
was  his  substitute,  and  has  been  known  to  dress  in  the 
cab  between  his  hotel  and  the  opera  house  on  a  call  fol 
lowing  de  Reszke's  sudden  illness;  but  neither  he  of  the 
hundred  roles  nor  any  others  of  the  company  could,  alone 
or  together,  fill  the  vacancy  Jean  de  Reszke  left.  Dippel 
was  not  heroic  enough  in  figure  to  fill  the  eye,  Van  Dyck's 
mode  of  singing  left  too  much  to  be  desired  by  the  ear, 
Burgstaller  had  too  small  a  repertory,  Kraus  was  so  vast 
that  his  Siegfried  in  armor  looked  like  a  huge  arma 
dillo,  even  Tamagno  the  Italian  and  Alvarez  the 
Spaniard,  admirable  artists  both,  could  by  no  means  vie 
with  de  Reszke  in  the  extent  of  their  repertories.  Tak 
ing  him  for  all  in  all  he  was  the  finest  artist  of  his  genera 
tion,  a  tower  of  strength  to  our  company,  and  a  vocal 
and  physical  adornment  to  the  stage  he  elevated  by  his 
presence. 

I  sang -with  de  Reszke  for  the  last  time  at  the  farewell 
performance  of  the  season  at  the  Metropolitan  on  the 
evening  of  April  29,  1901,  when  Monsieur  Coquelin 
and  Madame  Bernhardt  also  bade  a  temporary  good-by 
to  America.  The  remarkable  program  comprised  the 
first  scene  of  the  third  act  of  Gounod's  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet,"  with  Salignac  and  Suzanne  Adams  as  the  lovers, 
Miss  Bauermeister  as  Gertrude,  and  Planqon  as  the 
Friar;  the  second  act  of  "  Tristan  und  Isolde,"  with  the 
brothers  de  Reszke  and  Mesdames  Nordica  and  Schu- 


GOING  TO  AND  FRO  293 

mann-Heink;  the  Mad  Scene  from  "Lucia,"  sung  by 
Madame  Melba  in -wonderful  contrast  to  the  preceding; 
Gozlan's  comedy  in  one  act,  "  La  Pluie  et  le  Beau 
Temps,"  exquisitely  rendered  by  Coquelin  and  Madame 
Bernhardt;  the  evening  concluding  with  the  third  act  of 
"  The  Valkyrie,"  in  which  I  as  Wotan  supported  Ma 
dame  Nordica's  Briinnhilde,  -as  so  often  before. 

When  Madame  Bernhardt  was  playing  in  Louisville, 
Kentucky,  the  home  of  our  own  Mary  Anderson,  the 
fashionable  attendance  on  her  opening  night  was  so  great 
that  she  could  not  get  a  carriage  to  take  her  to  her  theatre. 
Faute  de  mieux  she  hired  an  old-fashioned  coach  in  rags 
and  tatters,  drawn  by  a  rawboned  nag,  and  driven  by  a 
good-for-nothing,  white-woolled  darky  in  an  ancient  suit 
and  forlorn  top  hat.  Something  about  the  combination 
struck  the  fancy  of  the  divine  Sarah,  who  ordered  the 
ramshackle  vehicle  to  return  for  her.  When  the  play 
was  over  Sambo  drew  up  at  the  stage  door,  only  to  be 
ordered  away  by  a  policeman,  who  would  not  believe  the 
ragged  driver's  assertion  that  Madame  Bernhardt  had 
used  his  vehicle.  Ordered  away  the  second  time  by  the 
officer,  the  aged  negro  descended  from  the  box,  opened 
the  door  of  the  barouche  with  a  flourish,  and  said: 
"  Look  here,  boss,  if  you  don't  believe  I  done  brung 
Miss  Sarah  to  this  here  theatre,  just  you  smell  my  hack." 

During  the  spring  of  1901  I  was  singing  in  Chicago  at 
one  of  the  series  of  popular  four  o'clock  concerts,  the 
orchestra  being  under  Theodore  Spiering.  As  I  was  to 
appear  in  Philadelphia  the  next  evening,  it  was  essential 
that  I  should  catch  the  limited  express  after  the  concert. 
In  my  contract  it  was  stipulated  that  the  program  was 
to  be  arranged  so  that  I  could  finish  in  time  to  get  my 
train.  I  had  a  cab  at  the  stage  door  of  the  Studebaker 


294       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Theatre,  in  which  were  my  impedimenta,  and  I  had  noth 
ing  further  to  do  but  to  deliver  the  last  group  and  go. 
After  singing  I  jumped  in,  urged  the  driver  to  hasten  — 
and  the  horse  fell  down!  What  to  do?  Get  the  horse 
up  on  four  legs  again.  We  did  it  with  the  help  of  several 
passers-by.  I  reached  the  station,  the  porter  running 
beside  me  with  my  things,  to  find  the  train  already  mov 
ing;  but  I  luckily  scrambled  aboard  before  the  doors  of 
the  vestibule  were  closed.  Audiences  are  never  aware  of 
the  nervous  anxiety  incidents  so  slight  cause  the  artist. 

I  went  to  London  for  the  season  of  1901  at  Covent 
Garden,  entering  immediately  upon  rehearsals  of  Villiers 
Stanford's  new  opera  in  four  acts  founded  upon  Shake 
speare's  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,"  the  admirable 
libretto  in  English  made  by  Julian  Sturgis.  This  really 
fine  work  was  rehearsed  and  played  with  great  enthusiasm 
by  those  of  us  who  sang  and  had  been  written  with  equal 
gusto ;  as  Stanford  told  me  in  his  delightful  Irish  way,  "  It 
ran  right  out  of  the  end  of  my  pen."  But  the  London 
Press  would  have  none  of  it,  though  they  had  heralded  it 
in  glowing  terms,  and  were  so  disappointed  in  the  out 
come  that  they  said  they  had  made  "  much  ado  about 
nothing."  To  my  mind  this  judgment  was  entirely  un 
warranted.  The  work  is  beautiful  and  will  well  repay 
study  by  those  interested  in  opera  in  English.  Marie 
Brema  was  enchanting  as  Beatrice,  I  was  Benedick,  the 
English  tenor  John  Coates  was  Claudio,  Robert  Blass 
made  an  amusing  Dogberry,  Suzanne  Adams  was  krvely 
as  Hero,  Plangon  superb  as  the  Friar,  and  the  part  of 
Leonato  was  assigned  to  the  gifted  American  basso,  Put 
nam  Griswold,  who  ere  long  joined  the  great  majority,  to 
the  infinite  regret  of  his  friends  and  of  the  public. 

Many  and  notable  were  the  occasions  upon  which  I  sang 


GOING  TO  AND  FRO  295 

that  season  in  London,  the  most  distinguished  being  at  a 
memorial  concert  to  Queen  Victoria  under  the  patronage 
of  Queen  Alexandra.  My  own  song  recital  the  next  day 
was  equally  important  to  me,  as  I  then  introduced  to  the 
London  public  among  classics  of  the  best  sort  the  Amer 
ican  negro  melodies  arranged  by  Henry  Burleigh,  "  I 
Don't  Want  to  Stay  Here  No  Longer,"  "  The  Blackbird 
and  the  Crow,"  and  "  Joshua  Fit  de  Battle  of  Jericho," 
which  I  consider  to  be  as  legitimate  examples  of  folk 
songs  as  those  of  Germany,  England,  and  Ireland  with 
which  they  were  grouped.  London  for  the  first  time 
had  a  taste  of  the  real  as  distinguished  from  the  spurious 
article  sung  by  the  Christie  Minstrels  or  the  politely  ar 
tificial  negro  songs  of  my  friend  Alfred  Gatty. 

The  next  evening  I  sang  for  the  first  time  the  difficult 
but  fascinating  part  of  lago  in  Verdi's  "  Otello,"  with 
Tamagno  in  the  title  role,  under  the  conductorship  of 
Mancinelli.  The  advice  given  me  years  before  by 
Planchette  had  never  been  forgotten,  for  I  had  studied 
with  great  care  the  barytone  roles  in  the  operas  of  Verdi. 
Unfortunately  for  me  the  barytone  parts  in  Italian  operas 
are  preempted  by  Italians,  and  lago,  created  by  Victor 
Maurel,  was  also  very  finely  sung  by  Antonio  Scotti, 
whose  indisposition  enabled  me  to  assume  the  role  on  the 
few  occasions  when  I  have  rendered  it. 

At  the  end  of  the  great  jealousy  scene,  while  the 
populace  without  is  acclaiming  Otello  as  "  The  Venetian 
Lion,"  he  falls  in  a  faint.  lago,  triumphing  over  him, 
sings,  "  Ecco  il  Leone !  "  and,  as  performed  by  Maurel, 
sets  his  foot  upon  the  chest  of  the  prostrate  Moor.  I 
adopted  it  as  an  effective,  and  to  Tamagno  an  inoffensive, 
bit  of  stage  business ;  but  when  I  sang  it  later  in  New  York 
with  Alvarez,  unconscious  as  he  was  supposed  to  be  lying 


296       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

there  close  to  the  footlights,  he  calmly  raised  his  hand 
and  shoved  my  foot  away  from  his  manly  bosom.  It 
almost  upset  my  balance  and  completely  upset  the  gravity 
of  those  who  saw  him  do  it.  I  concluded  that  it  would  be 
as  well,  in  the  absence  of  rehearsals,  to  find  out  in  future 
whether  the  procedure  adopted  is  held  objectionable  or 
not. 

While  recrossing  the  ocean  in  October  I  met  a  musical 
enthusiast  who  knew  me  by  sight  and  who  was  eager  to 
learn  of  the  plans  of  the  opera  company,  which  had  al 
ready  begun  a  season  of  French  and  Italian  works  in 
Canada.  Telling  him  I  was  to  join  the  company  at 
Louisville,  Kentucky,  he  asked  me  what  opera  we  were 
going  to  sing.  I  replied  that  it  was  "  Lohengrin,"  with 
Mesdames  Eames  and  Schumann-Heink,  Dippel  in  the 
title  role,  and  Mr.  Damrosch  conducting.  He  said,  "  I 
will  go  to  hear  you."  I  asked  if  he  lived  in  Louisville, 
and  he  replied:  "  Oh,  no;  but  I  have  a  few  days  to 
spare  and  I'm  a  fan  on  music;  so  I'll  just  go  out  there  to 
hear  that  opera,  and  then  I  will  have  something  no  one 
can  ever  take  away  from  me."  Would  there  were  more 
people  like  him ! 

To  southern  cities  we  went,  with  Mesdames  Sembrich, 
Gadski,  Melba,  Louise  Homer,  and  Emma  Calve. 

Among  the  newcomers  in  our  cast  was  the  German 
character  tenor,  Albert  Reiss,  who  could  properly  boast 
of  being  one  of  the  most  useful  artists  who  ever  ap 
peared  on  the  stage,  in  New  York  at  any  rate,  and  one 
of  the  finest  character  actors  in  operatic  annals.  Van 
Dyck  covered  himself  with  glory;  Journet,  the  basso,  be 
came  immediately  a  favorite;  Salignac  under  the  genial 
influence  of  our  great  audiences  gave  his  best;  the  bary 
tones  Scotti  and  Campanari  were  at  the  top  notch  of  their 


GOING  TO  AND  FRO  297 

fame,  and  the  sprightly  Fritzi  Scheff  and  the  genial 
Edouard  de  Reszke  contributed  a  vivacity  and  amount  of 
fun  to  the  company  which  permeated  the  whole  body  of 
artists.  We  were  all  like  children  out  of  school. 

As  far  as  I  know  every  one  returned  to  New  York 
well  except  myself;  but  in  crossing  the  Rocky  Mountains 
in  December  I  threw  off  my  covers  in  the  overheated 
sleeper,  and  lay  unconsciously  with  my  back  against  the 
window  while  the  weather  outside  was  40°  below  zero. 
In  consequence  I  contracted  a  severe  attack  of  lumbago. 
Our  first  stop  was  Kansas  City,  and  I  can  never  forget  my 
servant's  surprise  on  awakening  me  in  the  morning  at 
the  hotel  to  see  me  crumple  up  and  fall  prostrate  upon 
the  floor  as  I  stepped  out  of  bed.  The  demon  had  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  small  of  my  back  and  I  was  as  nothing 
in  his  grasp.  My  faithful  Italian  plunged  me  into  the 
hot  bath  already  prepared,  and  by  the  application  of 
electricity  to  my  back  during  the  day  I  was  enabled,  by 
evening,  to  move  about  the  room. 

I  wondered  how  I  was  to  get  through  my  part  of 
Wolfram  that  night,  but  I  made  my  way  with  the  others 
to  the  huge  Convention  Hall,  where  a  crowded  audience 
had  assembled.  When  standing  I  could  scarcely  sit 
down,  while  sitting  I  could  scarcely  arise,  if  I  bent  an  inch 
out  of  the  perpendicular  I  was  in  great  pain;  but  the  per 
formance  had  to  be  given  as  there  was  no  one  to  take  my 
place.  My  voice  was  in  excellent  condition,  though  I 
suffered  acutely  with  every  inhalation.  I  faced  the  ordeal 
and  went  through  the  first  act  well  enough,  not  being 
obliged  to  do  anything  but  stand  during  the  concerted 
numbers  and  solo  that  fell  to  my  lot. 

The  second  act  I  dreaded.  I  had  to  appear  as  grace 
ful  as  was  physically  possible,  and  after  changing  my 


298       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

costume  was  almost  incapacitated  by  pain.  However,  I 
walked  on  with  the  rest  in  the  scene  of  The  Hall  of  Song, 
which  Madame  Gadski  had  just  greeted  in,  the  famous 
solo,  and  it  was  to  her  that  I  had  to  pay  my  operatic  ad 
dresses  through  the  rest  of  the  act.  She,  calm  and 
serene,  accepted  the  homage  I  laid  at  her  feet,  little 
•aware  that  every  move  I  made  almost  prostrated  me 
before  her.  I  shall  never  forget  when  the  quartette  of 
pages  announced  "  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  beginne," 
and  I  had  to  rise  from  my  stool,  my  hand  on  my  harp, 
ready  to  -open  my  address  to  the  assemblage.  I  was 
sitting  as  straight  as  possible,  and  managed  to  get  my  left 
leg  around  behind  my  chair  out  of  sight  of  the  audience 
and  without  disturbing  my  equilibrium.  My  right  foot, 
visible  to  the  house,  was  projecting  gracefully  before  me. 
The  moment  arrived,  the  deed  had  to  be  done,  and  with 
a  mighty  effort  I  stood  erect.  In  so  doing  I  emitted  a 
groan  that  must  have  been  heard  to  the  farthest  seat  in 
the  vast  auditorium.  I  could  not  move  forward  and 
had  instructed  the  page  in  waiting  to  draw  my  chair 
away.  Several  times  during  the  solo  it  was  so  painful 
to  breathe  that  I  doubted  whether  I  could  go  on.  When 
the  number  was  over  at  last,  and  the  page  replaced  my 
chair,  I  could  not  sink  into  it  gradually  as  I  should  have 
done  ordinarily;  at  a  certain  point  the  nerves  and  muscles 
of  my  legs  and  back  gave  way  and  I  fell  into  the  seat 
with  a  thud,  thankful,  at  least,  that  so  much  had  been 
done  without  a  catastrophe.  Things  went  better  from 
there  on,  but  at  the  conclusion  of  the  performance,  which 
took  place  upon  a  bitterly  cold  night,  my  costumes  were 
wringing  wet  with  the  perspiration  my  agony  had  started 
from  every  pore  of  my  body. 

My  lesson  in  the  obligations  of  a  public  performer  to 


GOING  TO  AND  FRO  299 

his  audience  was  learned  early.  When  a  youth  attend 
ing  the  variety  performance  to  hear  Max  Heinrich  sing 
I  saw  an  accident  befall  one  of  the  acrobats  in  the  trapeze 
act.  As  one  of  the  two  gymnasts  let  go  his  hold  on  the 
bar  and  swung  into  the  hands  of  his  partner,  he  was 
caught  properly,  but  their  hands  slipped  on  the  return 
swing,  throwing  him  into  the  orchestra.  I  was  shocked 
at  the  accident,  but  felt  relieved  the  next  moment,  when 
the  fallen  man  arose,  scrambled  back  to  the  stage  and  re 
peated  the  act,  this  time  successfully.  I  was  pretty  sure 
that  he  was  injured  in  some  way,  for  he  had  landed  on 
his  head  and  shoulders,  and  asked  about  him  the  next 
day.  Heinrich  told  me  he  was  somewhat  better,  but  had 
been  in  delirium  and  convulsions  all  night  long. 

There  was  my  lesson.  A  public  performer  is  neither 
more  nor  less  than  a  soldier  under  fighting  orders.  He 
engages  himself  to  do  something  and,  the  engagement 
made,  he  must  carry  it  out,  no  matter  how  difficult  or 
dangerous  it  proves  to  be.  As  in  Kansas  City  when 
great  discomfort  told  me  to  stay  in  bed  and  nurse  my 
ills,  the  thought  of  that  acrobat,  injured  about  his  head 
and  spine  but  doing  his  work  nevertheless,  made  a  higher 
appeal  than  my  slighter  troubles,  however  painful.  If 
he  could  do  his  duty,  certainly  I  could  do  mine.  Short 
of  actual  incapacity,  it  is  the  singer's  task  to  sing  well 
enough  to  overcome  all  lesser  difficulties,  to  appear  smil 
ing  before  his  public  without  a  hint  of  his  afflictions,  and 
to  go  through  his  performance  with  all  the  artistry  of 
which  he  is  capable.  His  private  ills  are  not  the  business 
of  the  public,  which  had  paid  its  good  money  and  has  the 
right  to  expect  value  returned. 

There  are  times,  however,  when  an  artist  is  absolutely 
incapacitated  and  unable  to  contend  against  an  acute 


300       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

malady,  as  in  the  case  of  the  American  soprano,  Miss 
Sarah  Anderson,  who  but  a  fortnight  later  arrived  at 
Carnegie  Hall,  New  York,  to  sing  with  us  in  "  The  Mes 
siah."  She  complained  that,  though  perfectly  well  be 
fore  dinner,  she  had  been  attacked  as  she  left  her  house 
with  a  fit  of  sneezing  so  violent  that  it  left  her  unable  to 
perform.  A  specialist  was  called  who  pronounced  it 
acute  laryngitis,  the  sudden  onslaught  of  which  presently 
robbed  Miss  Anderson  of  the  ability  to  utter  a  note. 
By  chance,  there  was  a  teacher  of  singing  in  the  artist's 
room  who  said  that  he  had  a  pupil  in  the  audience  who 
knew  the  part,  though  she  had  never  sung  it  in  public, 
and  would  take  the  place  of  Miss  Anderson,  who  had 
herself  been  engaged  owing  to  the  illness  of  Miss  Esther 
Palliser.  The  newcomer  sang  most  acceptably,  having 
bridged  a  gap  which  is  but  seldom  provided  against. 
Indeed  it  is  remarkable,  and  altogether  to  their  credit, 
that  concert  singers  so  seldom  disappoint  their  audiences. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

COMPOSER   AND    CRITIC 

Hope  constancy  in  wind,  or  corn  in  chaff; 
Believe  a  woman  or  an  epitaph, 
Or  any  other  thing  that's  false,  before 
You  trust  in  critics,  who  themselves  are  sore. 

—  Byron. 

THOUGH  Ignace  Paderewski,  musician  and  statesman, 
did  not  conduct,  he  assisted  in  preparing  the  first  pro 
duction  of  his  opera  "  Manru  "  on  February  14,  1902,  at 
the  Metropolitan,  and  was  present  at  its  American 
premiere.  I  sang  the  very  arduous  part  of  Urok  in  this 
extraordinary  work,  Bandrowski  assuming  the  title  role 
as  he  had  abroad,  Madame  Sembrich  the  beautiful  char 
acter  of  Ulana,  supported  by  Madame  Louise  Homer, 
Miss  Fritzi  Scheff,  and  others.  Altogether  "  Manru  " 
was  given  nine  times  that  season  in  New  York  and  other 
cities.  It  was  so  full  of  musical  color  and  action  and 
the  drawing  power  of  the  composer's  name  was  so  great 
that  it  not  only  made  money  but  was  seriously  considered 
by  Mr.  Grau  for  revival  the  year  following. 

Paderewski  had  a  musical  idiom  of  his  own,  used  freely 
throughout  this  work.  Nevertheless  he  was  accused  of 
plagiarizing  from  Verdi,  from  Bizet,  and  from  Wagner. 
He  was  greatly  hurt  by  the  charge,  and  at  the  banquet 
given  him  by  the  opera  management  and  associated  artists 
several  New  York  critics  actually  twitted  him  face  to 
face  on  the  similarity  of  his  work  to  that  of  his  predeces 
sors.  He  replied  that  he  had  wittingly  appropriated  no 

301 


302       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

musical  material  that  did  not  belong  to  him,  and  pointedly 
inquired  if  an  architect  is  blamed  for  putting  windows  in 
a  house  because  others  before  him  have  done  the  like. 

A  man  highly  placed  once  said  to  me  as  he  looked 
over  his  newspaper,  "  Is  it  not  amazing  that  Pad- 
erewski,  a  mere  piano  player,  should  become  the 
Premier  of  Poland!  Think  of  a  man  like  that,"  he 
said  scornfully,  "  being  allowed  to  hold  a  position  of 
such  prominence."  My  acquaintance  was  greatly  sur 
prised  when  I  told  him  that  Paderewski  was  one  of  the 
finest  linguists  in  Europe,  one  of  the  best  informed  men 
in  the  world,  and  a  statesman  whose  political  acumen 
was  acknowledged  by  the  principal  figures  of  the  Peace 
Conference. 

It  is  extraordinary  how  generally  musical  reviewers 
attempt  to  impede,  rather  than  assist,  artists  in  their 
work,  and  to  destroy  rather  than  uphold  well-established 
reputations.  It  is  so  easy  to  speak  in  dispraise  of  any 
thing  that,  in  order  that  the  public  may  be  better  in 
structed  regarding  those  who  entertain  them,  I  heartily 
recommend  to  all  who  criticize  what  Swinburne  calls 
"  the  noble  art  of  praising." 

I  sang  that  season  six  times  in  four  oratorios,  Liszt's 
"  St.  Elizabeth,"  Gounod's  "  Redemption,"  Verdi's 
"  Requiem,"  and  Rossini's  "  Stabat  Mater  ";  in  ten  mis 
cellaneous  concerts,  several  of  which  put  upon  me  the 
greater  part  of  the  work;  in  ten  recitals  of  my  own  in 
which  I  did  all  the  work,  including  two  or  three  perform 
ances  of  Strauss's  "  Enoch  Arden  ";  and  in  fourteen  per 
formances  of  opera,  Wagner's  "  Rheingold,"  "  Sieg 
fried,"  and  "  Lohengrin,"  and  Paderewski's  "  Manru  "; 
making  forty  performances  in  all,  including  nine  entire 
works  and  a  list  of  sixty  songs,  and  involving  travel  away 


COMPOSER  AND  CRITIC  303 

from  New  York  to  eighteen  cities  between  Florida  and 
Canada. 

Fortunately,  such  is  the  power  of  will  over  ill  —  for 
even  my  robust  strength  was  severely  taxed  —  that  I  was 
enabled,  thanks  to  the  powers  that  be,  to  emerge  safely 
from  the  ordeal  and  sail  for  Europe  in  my  usual  good 
health,  entering  immediately  upon  another  busy  season 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  after  having  given  119 
performances  in  my  native  land. 

The  season  that  followed  in  London  differed  in  no 
particular  respect  from  the  many  preceding  it.  I  took 
my  usual  roles  at  Covent  Garden  and  added  to  my 
repertory  the  part  of  Rudolf  in  an  opera  called  "  Der 
Wald  "  (The  Forest),  a  work  already  performed  on  the 
Continent.  It  was  composed  by  the  talented  English 
woman  Ethel  M.  Smythe,  and  brought  prominently  to 
the  fore  the  gifted  Olive  Fremstad,  an  American  of 
Norse  descent  and  German  training,  whom  I  had  met  a 
few  years  previously  at  the  house  of  Madame  Wagner 
at  Bayreuth  and  with  whom  earlier  in  the  London  season 
of  1902  I  sang  in  "  Tristan  und  Isolde"  and  in  "  Lo 
hengrin,"  her  interpretation  of  Brangane  and  Ortrud 
giving  promise  of  the  great  things  she  was  later  to 
achieve  as  a  Wagnerian  singer. 

As  Miss  Fremstad  began  to  come  into  prominence, 
various  stories  were  told  of  her.  Some  years  previously 
she  had  been  studying  in  Germany  with  Lilli  Lehmann, 
who  was  then  married  to  Paul  Kalisch,  the  tenor,  and 
it  is  said  that  the  elder  artist,  becoming  annoyed  with 
Miss  Fremstad,  took  a  book  of  songs  from  the  piano 
and  flung  it  at  her  head,  with  the  result  that  the  fair 
Olive  burst  into  tears  and  left  the  house  enraged.  As  she 
went  she  passed  by  Mr.  Kalisch,  sitting  at  a  table  in  great 


304       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

dejection  with  his  face  in  his  hands;  looking  up  with  tears 
in  his  eyes  he  said,  "Olive,  what  is  the  matter?"  To 
which  Olive  angrily  replied,  "  I  will  never  come  here 
again;  she  has  thrown  a  book  at  my  head."  The  tenor 
to  comfort  her  said,  "  Never  mind,  my  dear,  she  does 
the  same  to  me." 

That  season  in  London  there  appeared  a  woman  who 
had  already  made  a  great  success  in  Paris  at  the  Opera 
Comique  and  who  was  presently  destined  to  become  world 
famous,  none  other  than  Mary  Garden,  who  sang  the 
title  role  in  Massenet's  u  Manon,"  giving  London  a  taste 
of  the  thrill  which  later  moved  the  whole  artistic  world. 

During  my  residence  in  England  I  had  many  times  been 
touched  to  the  heart  by  the  admiration  of  the  public  for 
American  artists  and  by  the  sincere  desire  on  the  part 
of  the  British  nation  as  a  whole  to  make  friends  and  to 
stay  friends  with  its  great  offshoot  across  the  water.  I 
knew  personally  our  ministers  and  ambassadors,  Bayard, 
John  Hay,  and  Choate,  who  was  loved  for  his  American 
wit  and  gallantry,  for  had  he  not  said  that  if  he  could  not 
be  himself,  he  would  prefer  to  be  Mrs.  Choate's  second 
husband?  There  seems  to  be  in  the  make-up  of  the 
Britons  little  place  for  jealousy.  They  are  such  good 
sportsmen  that  they  admire  talent  wherever  they  see  it 
and  reward  Americans  as  they  would  their  own  people 
with  frank  affection. 

I  possess  in  an  old  statuette  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  a 
curious  exemplification  of  this  earlier  British  feeling. 
Many  of  these  figures  of  the  celebrated  colonial  states 
man  and  sage  had  been  sold,  when  his  attitude  during  his 
diplomatic  negotiations  with  France  caused  him  to  be  as 
heartily  disliked  as  he  had  before  been  beloved,  and  the 
demand  for  his  statuettes  immediately  fell  off.  In  or- 


COMPOSER  AND  CRITIC  305 

der  to  dispose  of  the  stock,  the  makers  erased  from  the 
pedestal  his  name,  and  substituted  that  of  George  Wash 
ington,  whom  they  held  in  the  highest  esteem  even  though 
he  had  just  defeated  them  at  the  game  of  war.  My 
Franklin  figure  bears  the  name  of  Washington.  With 
the  change  the  remainder  of  the  stock  sold  like  hot  cakes ! 

One  of  my  most  interesting  programs  of  the  season  in 
1902  is  that  of  the  grand  British  and  American  Festival 
Peace  Concert  in  commemoration  of  the  South  African 
war,  at  Crystal  Palace,  under  the  conductorship  of  Fred 
erick  Cowan.  The  Handel  Festival  Choir  and  orchestra 
of  3000  performers  rendered  various  numbers,  while  the 
soloists,  alternately  American  and  English,  were  headed 
by  the  name  of  Madame  Albani,  who  being  a  Canadian 
was  both  American  and  English,  followed  by  Ella  Russell, 
American;  Clara  Butt,  British;  Belle  Cole,  American; 
Ben  Davies,  British;  myself,  American;  and  Charles 
Santley,  the  grand  old  man  of  the  vocal  world,  British, 
thoroughly  British.  How  the  audience  did  love  him, 
how  they  rose  to  him  when  he  appeared,  and  how  they 
applauded  him  to  the  echo  when  he  sang! 

The  program  contained  the  portraits  of  King  Edward 
VII  and  Queen  Alexandra  and  of  President  Theodore 
Roosevelt.  May  we  Americans  never  fall  out  with  our 
noble  and  high-minded  kinsmen  across  the  water  in  the 
little  island  from  which  so  many  of  us  have  sprung,  but 
may  we,  on  the  contrary,  assist  the  sons  of  that  far-flung 
race  to  maintain  the  peace  of  the  world! 

I  am  proud  to  say  that  my  own  countrymen  were  ask 
ing  for  my  services  more  than  ever,  but  I  did  not  return 
to  America  until  I  had  filled  an  engagement  once  more  at 
the  Sheffield  Festival  under  the  conductorship  of  Henry 
Wood,  now  universally  recognized  by  the  English  as  ©ne 


306       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

of  their  real  geniuses  of  the  baton.  Though  I  gave  three 
of  my  own  recitals  at  St.  James's  Hall  in  the  summer  of 
1902,  I  sang  little  more  after  that  time  till  1906,  when 
I  produced  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  in  England.  It 
was  a  regret  for  me  to  leave  a  country  where  for  so  long 
I  had  been  so  well  received.  At  two  of  the  three  con 
certs  to  which  I  have  alluded  I  repeated  Strauss's  melo 
drama  "  Enoch  Arden,"  with  my  version  of  Tennyson's 
poem  and  also  introduced  a  number  of  Strauss's  songs, 
including  the  "  Hymnus  "  and  "  Pilgers  Morgenlied," 
these  colorful  rhapsodies  contrasting  strangely  with,  but 
not  at  all  to  the  disadvantage  of,  Handel's  duet  from 
"  Israel  in  Egypt,"  "  The  Lord  is  a  Man  of  War,"  which 
I  rendered  with  the  brilliant  Ffranggon  Davies. 

Ere  long  I  began  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  songs 
of  Hugo  Wolf,  some  of  which  I  ventured  to  bring  before 
the  public,  which  has  at  length  accepted  them  and  would 
do  well  to  look  more1  carefully  into  their  manifold 
beauties,  though  many  of  them  seem  to  be  the  result 
of  a  mental  abnormality.  To  a  greater  extent  this  is 
true  of  Claude  Debussy,  who  was  driven  almost  insane 
by  the  overtones  he  alone  could  hear,  but  which  led  him 
at  last  to  write  his  master  work,  the  opera  "  Pelleas  and 
Melisande." 

The  composer  Ernest  Bloch  has  told  me  of  his  friend 
ship  with  Richard  Strauss  and  Debussy  and  of  their  man 
ner  of  working.  The  former,  having  finished  an  orches 
tral  score,  does  not  rest  content  till  he  has  added  still 
more  contrapuntal  devices,  piling  complication  upon  com 
plication;  whereas  Debussy  was  not  satisfied  until  he  had 
taken  out  of  his  score  as  many  notes  as  possible  and 
simplified  it  to  the  last  degree. 

While  the  vocal  score  of  Debussy's  "  Pelleas  and  Meli- 


COMPOSER  AND  CRITIC  307 

sande  "  was  in  my  possession  for  some  years  it  remained 
quite  uncomprehended.  When  at  last  I  heard  the  work 
with  Mary  Garden  as  the  heroine,  I  sat  entranced.  I 
knew  not  whether  I  was  awake  or  asleep,  whether  an  old 
Bayeux  tapestry  had  come  to  life  before  my  eyes,  whether 
I  was  witnessing  music  or  listening  to  pictures,  so  magical 
was  the  effect  upon  me  of  this  Old-World  tale  told  in 
terms  of  tones  tense,  tender,  tragic,  translucent,  tran 
scendental  ! 

Quite  otherwise  was  I  affected  by  the  music  of  another 
modern.  As  the  sounds  proceeded  I  seemed  to  have  a 
vision.  I  thought  I  was  in  Verona,  on  top  of  the  roof  of 
an  ancient  villa  surmounted  with  Ghibelline  battlements 
of  dark-red  brick,  beyond  which  tall,  dark-green  cypress 
trees  reared  their  heads  and  swayed  in  the  wind  of  an 
oncoming  storm.  It  was  night,  with  the  moon,  riding 
high  in  a  purple  sky,  sailing  in  and  out  of  the  clouds. 
Presently,  a  cat  emerged  from  the  shadows  and  stood 
waiting  on  the  middle  of  the  roof.  His  feline  call  was 
matched  by  a  wail  of  the  wind.  Another  cat  appeared, 
and  the  two  had  a  pitched  battle,  as  the  lightning  flashed 
and  the  thunder  rolled  in  the  distance.  There  followed 
a  calm;  the  moon  shone  forth  in  glory;  while  an  ex 
quisite  melody  arose  from  somewhere;  but  soon  discord 
began  again,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  fury  of  the  storm 
the  cats  fought  to  a  finish.  I  awoke  to  the  fact  that  I 
was  in  a  fashionable  London  drawing-room  and  that  a 
quartette  of  Max  Reger's  had  just  come  to  an  end. 

Some  time  ago  I  attended  an  orchestral  concert  at 
which  I  heard  a  well-known  soprano  sing  on  the  first  half 
of  the  program  a  pearly  Mozart  number  which  she,  ren 
dered  exquisitely.  Later  in  the  evening,  she  gave  an 
ultra-modern  composition  which  sounded  to  me  like  noth- 


3o8       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ing  in  the  world  so  much  'as  a  madwoman  singing  a  song 
by  a  crazy  man  at  an  insane  asylum  concert.  During  the 
closing  bars  of  the  piece  I  again  had  one  of  my  sudden 
visions  and  was  aware  that  a  heavily  laden  motor  truck 
had  run  over  a  whole  family  of  innocent  children. 

Though  it  is  impossible  to  forecast  the  tendency  of 
modern  music,  which  in  the  hands  of  futurists  seems  to 
presage  insanity,  yet  in  my  own  practice  as  well  as  in  my 
preachments  I  strive  to  inculcate  in  others  a  knowledge 
of,  and  love  for,  the  classics  of  song.  These  we  must 
know  and  learn  to  sing,  for  it  is  well-nigh  impossible  to 
comprehend  the  most  advanced  vocal  music  of  to-day. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

WOMAN    AND    SONG 

Mao  has  his  will,  but  woman  has  her  way. 

—  Holmes. 

As  in  years  before,  I  began  the  autumn  season  of  1902 
with  a  concert  tour.  The  end  of  November  found  me 
in  New  York  again,  singing  my  familiar  parts  at  the 
Metropolitan,  including  occasionally  the  role  of  lago,  of 
which  I  have  never  had  enough.  Several  performances 
of  "  The  Niebelungen  Ring  "  were  given  under  Alfred 
Hertz,  in  which  Alberich  was  once  more  assigned  to  me. 

The  outstanding  figures  in  the  minds  of  that  genera 
tion  of  Wagner  lovers  were  the  Erda  and  Waltraute  of 
Madame  Schumann-Heink ;  the  Briinnhilde  of  Madame 
Nordica;  the  Sieglinde  of  Madame  Gadski  and  Madame 
Eames;  the  Wotan  of  Van  Rooy ;  the  Loge  of  Van  Dyck; 
the  Mime  of  Reiss;  and  the  Hagen  of  Edouard  de 
Reszke,  though  there  were  other  famous  men  and  women 
in  the  company  brought  together  by  Grau,  during  what 
proved  to  be  his  final  season  in  New  York  and  London. 
After  him  came  Conried  and  a  deluge  of  talent  unknown 
to  New  York,  while  a  dozen  of  us  who  were  still  prime 
favorites  with  the  public  were  not  reengaged.  Thus 
came  to  an  end  an  aggregation  of  artists  which  had  been 
together  so  long  as  to  be  looked  upon  as  having  created 
an  epoch  in  operatic  annals. 

After  all  I  cannot  say  that  I  was  entirely  neglected  by 
the  little  man  who  had  been  so  successful  in  his  manage- 

309 


3io       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ment  of  the  Irving  Place  Theatre,  for  he  did  offer  me  an 
engagement  as  Amfortas  in  his  American  production  of 
u  Parsifal  "  which  caused  such  discussion  in  musical  cir 
cles. 

Somewhat  later  it  was  also  given  in  English  under  the 
direction  of  Henry  W.  Savage,  by  whom  I  was  also  asked 
to  take  the  part  of  Amfortas  during  his  season.  To  ap 
pear  in  that  work  alone  would  have  necessitated  my  giv 
ing  up  a  good  many  concerts.  For  this  I  asked  him  a 
goodly  sum  as  we  were  crossing  the  ocean  together. 
Later  on  he  decided  not  to  employ  me,  saying:  "If  I 
enter  into  a  contract  with  you  as  the  leading  figure  of  my 
company,  I  will  have  to  live  up  to  it,  and  I  am  not  sure 
yet  whether  I  shall  do  '  Parsifal '  or  not.  If  I  wanted 
to  change  my  plans  ten  thousand  dollars  would  be  a  big 
sum  to  cough  up."  The  phrase  was  new  to  me;  but  he 
was  a  phlegmatic  man. 

As  a  successor  to  Maurice  Grau  various  names  were 
under  consideration  by  the  directors  of  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House.  Walter  Damrosch  tried  for  it,  and  I  had 
the  temerity  to  offer  myself,  but  changed  my  mind  after 
reflecting  on  the  remark  of  one  of  the  music  critics  who 
wondered  what  kind  of  insanity  it  could  be  that  prompted 
a  man  to  wish  to  become  an  operatic  impresario. 

I  have  before  mentioned  my  love  for  the  stage,  and 
as  I  realized  that  my  operatic  activities  might  be  coming 
to  an  end,  I  was  considering  the  production  of  great 
dramas,  which  celebrated  composers  had  embellished 
with  music,  as  Beethoven  did  in  "  Egmont,"  and  Bizet  in 
"  L'Arlesienne."  I  urged  upon  one  of  the  theatrical 
managers  to  consider  this  and  to  give  the  "  Antigone  "  of 
Sophocles  with  Mendelssohn's  music,  or  Shakespeare's 
"  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  "  as  set  by  the  same  com- 


WOMAN  AND  SONG  311 

poser.  In  this  connection,  by  a  bit  of  luck,  Frank 
Damrosch  suggested  that  I  should  read  the  play  at  one 
of  his  Symphony  Concerts  for  Young  People,  and  I  was 
thus  enabled  to  act  all  the  parts  to  my  heart's  content. 
I  was  supported  by  a  chorus  of  women's  voices  from  the 
Oratorio  Society.  Every  note  of  the  music  of  Mendels 
sohn  was  performed  and  I  read  my  own  version  of  the 
play,  which  had  been  made  with  reverent  care.  This  I 
have  since  given  many  times,  not  only  repeating  it  a  few 
months  later  in  New  York,  but  performing  it  with  the 
Philadelphia  Orchestra  in  my  native  city,  using  then  the 
same  desk  at  which,  when  a  young  fellow,  I  had  heard 
Charles  Fechter  read  the  entire  play  of  "  Hamlet." 

In  the  spring  of  1903  the  New  York  Oratorio  Society 
gave  the  sacred  cantata,  "  The  Dream  of  Gerontius," 
by  Edward  Elgar,  the  first  production  of  which  I  had 
heard  in  England,  and  a  year  later  I  sang  as  Judas  in 
"  The  Apostles,"  by  the  same  composer.  These  works 
coming  in  rapid  succession  from  Elgar's  pen  brought  a 
retiring  man  suddenly  into  prominence.  In  this  country 
his  compositions,  by  reason  of  their  great  difficulty  and 
lofty,  not  to  say  abstruse,  character,  have  never  become 
favorites,  though  his  "  Coronation  Ode,"  written  for  the 
accession  of  King  Edward  VII  to  the  throne,  is  not  only 
of  a  more  popular  nature  but  contains  music  of  great 
strength  and  beauty.  I  brought  to  America  for  the  com 
poser,  and  presented  to  Walter  Damrosch,  who  after 
ward  produced  it,  Elgar's  brilliant  fantasy  upon  London 
life  called  "  Cockaigne."  On  the  occasion  of  the  per 
formance  of  "  The  Apostles,"  the  English  alto  Muriel 
Foster  was  in  an  agony  of  dread  and  pain,  because  of  the 
approach  of  what  might  have  resulted  in  lockjaw  had  it 
not  been  taken  in  time.  That  evening  she  placed  be- 


3i2       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

tween  her  teeth,  at  the  back  of  her  mouth  which  she 
could  open  but  with  great  difficulty,  a  wad  of  paper  to 
keep  her  jaws  from  coming  together.  In  this 
plight  she  bravely  went  through  the  performance,  though 
the  audience  must  have  wondered  at  the  strange  enuncia 
tion  which  sometimes  marred  her  otherwise  distinct  de 
livery  of  the  text. 

In  contrast  let  me  tell  the  following  incident,  of  which 
I  did  not  hear  the  last  in  the  newspapers  for  many  a  day. 
I  had  gone  to  a  New  England  town  to  give  a  song  re 
cital.  Arriving  several  hours  before  the  performance  I 
rested  myself  with  a  nap  before  dinner.  Upon  arising 
to  dress  for  the  concert  I  found  that  my  evening  waist 
coat  had  been  accidentally  left  behind.  It  was  vain  to 
try  to  get  into  the  waistcoat  of  my  slender  accompanist. 
At  the  last  moment,  I  began  telephoning  about  town  to 
discover  a  man  with  a  figure  like  mine,  who  would  be 
willing  to  lend  me  the  needed  garment.  The  only  one 
I  could  find  in  the  time  available  was  still  six  inches  too 
small. 

In  my  despair  I  called  up  the  housekeeper  of  the  hotel. 
She  came,  slit  the  waistcoat  up  the  back,  and  pinned  it  to 
my  inner  garment  under  my  arms.  For  a  while  all  went 
well;  but,  as  I  sang,  the  expansion  of  my  chest  with  every 
breath  caused  the  misnamed  safety  pins  to  give  way.  As 
I  sang  "  The  Two  Grenadiers,"  one  pin  loosed  its  hold; 
as  I  sang  "  The  Evening  Star  "  the  other  began  to  slip, 
and  I  was  in  dread  lest  the  points  should  come  in  contact 
with  my  cuticle.  It  happened,  as  I  feared,  during  my 
rendering  of  "  Why  do  the  Nations  So  Furiously  Rage 
Together."  I  took  an  unusually  deep  breath  to  prepare 
for  one  of  the  runs,  which  caused  the  sharp  point  of  one 
of  the  wretched  pins  to  dig  into  my  rib  a  savage  jab 


WOMAN  AND  SONG  313 

and  nearly  spoiled  the  point  of  the  piece,  as  the  point 
of  the  pin  remained  imbedded  in  my  flesh.  Yet  all  the 
audience  saw  was  the  first  convulsive  twitch,  which  was 
impossible  for  me  to  control.  When  at  last  the  story 
appeared  in  the  papers  I  felt  the  force  of  the  Shake 
spearean  line,  "  He  jests  at  scars  that  never  felt  a  wound." 

So  thoroughly  had  the  German  element  pervaded 
America  that  much  admirable  English  music  has  been 
excluded,  yet  it  has  always  been  a  surprise  to  me  that 
Villiers  Stanford's  sparkling  "  Irish  Symphony  "  is  not  a 
favorite  in  our  concert  rooms.  Perhaps  the  reason  may 
be  thought  unsound,  but  the  fact  is  that  not  many  of  his 
compatriots  are  supporters  of  symphonic  music  in  the 
United  States  and  therefore  may  never  have  made  the 
acquaintance  of  their  gifted  countryman's  orchestral  work 
which  Damrosch  has  lately  reintroduced. 

Yet  many  amusing  stories  are  told  of  the  love  of  the 
Irish  in  Dublin  for  Italian  opera,  to  which  in  years  gone 
by  they  used  to  crowd  when  some  company  from  London 
touring  the  British  Isles  would  appear  in  the  Irish  capital. 
It  was  there,  during  an  early  performance  of  Gounod's 
"  Faust,"  that  the  trap  in  the  stage  stuck  fast  just  as 
Mephistopheles,  in  obedience  to  the  older  stage  directions, 
endeavored  to  disappear  into  the  lower  regions.  An 
uncomfortable  stage  wait  ensued  and  the  music  stopped 
for  a  moment,  when  a  boy  in  the  gallery  shouted  out, 
"  Hurrah,  boys;  hell's  full!" 

On  another  occasion  a  tenor  was  holding  out  a  long- 
drawn  high  note,  which  he  was,  with  admirable  breath 
control,  spinning  out  almost  to  the  vanishing  point. 
The  audience  was  breathless  with  admiration  when  from 
the  topmost  gallery,  a  stage  whisper  could  be  heard  all 
over  the  house,  "  Whisht,  boys !  'tis  the  gas."  There  was 


3H       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

instantly  a  commotion,  laughter  on  the  part  of  some, 
hisses  from  many  because  of  the  interruption,  and  cries 
of  "  Put  him  out !  "  with  one  irate  Hibernian  demanding 
that  the  offender  be  thrown  over  the  balcony.  Another 
shouted  out  lustily,  "  Howld  on,  boys !  Don't  waisht 
him;  kill  a  fiddler  wid  'im." 

It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1903  that  I  began 
during  my  concerts  to  say  a  few  words  as  I  went  along 
about  my  programs,  giving  my  audiences  some  indication 
of  the  meaning  of  each  song  when  desirable.  I  have 
kept  up  this  custom,  thus  interesting  and  holding  the  at 
tention  of  my  auditors  and  often  enlivening  with  some 
carefully  chosen  anecdote,  what  might  be,  to  persons  unac 
customed  to  many  vocal  pieces  rendered  by  one  voice,  a 
tiresome  succession  of  unintelligible  songs. 

A  famous  artist  after  attending  one  of  my  concerts, 
and  hearing  me  recite  "  Enoch  Arden,"  at  the  conclusion 
of  a  program  of  song,  assured  me  that  if  I  both  spoke 
arid  sang  the  effort  of  declamation  would  ruin  my  sing 
ing  voice.  This  is  not  necessarily  the  case,  though  I  am 
aware  that  many  singers  remain  silent  all  day  before 
any  public  appearance.  No  rules  can  be  laid  down  about 
this  any  more  than  about  eating  before  performances. 
Many  eat  several  hours  prior  to  singing;  I  have  tried  this 
and  it  does  not  suit  me.  I  eat  my  dinner  and  go  upon 
the  stage  immediately.  Most  of  my  colleagues  wonder 
at  my  habits,  and  to  them  it  may  be  appropriate  to  re 
mark  that,  in  the  words  of  the  ancient  saying,  "  One 
man's  meat  is  another  man's  poison." 

Here  let  me  record  my  obligations  to  the  many  women 
in  America  who  have  helped  me  in  carrying  out  my 
ambitions  and  to  whom  we  may  all  be  thankful  for  the 
growth  of  music  throughout  the  country.  It  is  indeed 


WOMAN  AND  SONG  315 

interesting  to  me  to  look  over  any  musical  journal  at 
the  present  time  and  see  the  names  of  so  many  enthusi 
astic  and  artistic  business  women,  with  whose  musical 
beginnings  I  was  associated  and  whom  I  have  to  thank 
for  so  much  in  my  career.  There  is  not  a  page  to  which 
I  turn  but  I  find  the  names  of  places  in  which  I  have 
appeared  and  of  individuals  to  whom  I  am  indebted. 

Were  it  not  for  the  artistic  aims  and  the  business 
probity  of  the  hundreds  of  women's  musical  clubs  every 
where  in  the  United  States,  America  could  not  have 
reached  to  the  high  level  of  musical  attainment  which 
characterizes  it  above  all  other  new  countries.  To 
women's  musical  clubs,  then,  I  desire  to  acknowledge  my 
deep  indebtedness,  for  without  them  my  enthusiastic 
vision  as  I  stood  in  the  prow  of  the  vessel  on  returning 
from  Europe  as  a  professional  singer  could  never  have 
been  fulfilled.  I  could  not  otherwise  have  carried  my 
message,  such  as  it  was,  to  more  than  a  restricted  area 
of  the  great  North  American  continent,  over  which  I 
have  traveled  many  and  many  a  time,  until  my  trail 
on  the  map  looks  like  a  veritable  spider's  web.  I  am 
thankful  that  every  one  of  these  journeys  was  undertaken 
with  enthusiasm  and  fulfilled  with  loyalty,  and  can  be 
looked  back  upon,  not  only  without  regret,  but  as  among 
the  great  pleasures  of  my  life.  Of  fatigues  there  have 
been  many;  but  what  of  that,  when  the  joy  of  perform 
ance  has  been  so  great?  There  have  been  unpleasant 
nesses;  but  what  of  that,  when  it  would  have  been  far 
less  pleasant  not  to  have  been  engaged  in  the  work? 
There  have  been  a  few  disappointments,  but  again  what 
of  that,  when  no  work  can  be  undertaken  without  disap 
pointment? 

I  have  been  fortunate  to  be  in  love  with  my  profession. 


316       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Happy  indeed  is  the  man  who  is  enabled  to  do  what  he 
likes  to  do,  has  found  an  occupation  he  enjoys,  and  is 
successful  in  it!  iMany  a  time  have  I  been  reminded  of 
Tennyson's  line,  "  One  clear  call  for  me."  Though  in 
the  poem  that  call  is  referable  to  the  conclusion  of  mortal 
existence,  I  from  the  beginning  have  heard  the  one  clear 
call  that  bade  me  take  up  a  musical  life  and  prosecute  it  to 
the  end  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THREE    PRESIDENTS 

The  man  who  disparages  music  as  being  a  luxury  and  a  non-essential 
is  doing  the  Nation  an  injury. —  Woodroiu  Wilson. 

THOUGH  I  visited  the  White  House  several  times  dur 
ing  Mr.  Roosevelt's  administration  on  private  or  public 
occasions,  I  sang  there  on  January  6,  1904,  at  the  first 
musicale  given  by  President  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt,  when 
I  was  honored  by  being  asked  to  give  a  program  of 
American  songs  coupled  with  a  group  of  ditties  familiar 
to  everybody.  Accordingly  I  rendered  Mendelssohn's 
"  On  Wings  of  Music,"  followed  by  my  favorite  Irish, 
Scotch,  and  English  ballads,  not  forgetting  North  Ameri 
can  Indian  and  Southern  negro  melodies. 

But  the  principal  group,  used  as  a  climax  to  the  occa 
sion,  included  the  work  of  six  living  American  com 
posers,  which  I  was  glad  to  present  before  the  many 
foreign  representatives  present  in  their  official  and  diplo 
matic  capacity.  Again  I  was  asked,  as  in  Albany,  by  my 
hostess  not  to  include  the  harrowing  "  Danny  Deever"; 
but  it  was  demanded  by  the  guests.  Its  conclusion 
brought  the  President  upstanding  to  his  feet,  and  with 
hands  outstretched  he  came  forward,  saying,  "  By  Jove, 
Mr.  Bispham,  that  was  bully !  With  such  a  song  as  that 
you  could  lead  a  nation  into  battle !  "  Yet  it  was  said 
of  Mr.  Roosevelt  that  he  was  unmusical  and  that  he  knew 
only  two  tunes,  one  of  which  was  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  and 
the  other  —  wasn't! 

317 


3i8       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

While  "  Teddy  "  was  often  loud  of  speech  and  hearty 
in  his  manner,  full  of  fun  and  roaring  with  laughter  in 
the  family  circle  or  among  intimate  friends,  President 
Taft  was  quieter  in  his  demeanor,  a  larger,  slower-mov 
ing  man,  but  one  of  great  kindness  and  geniality,  though 
I  am  not  aware  that  he  was  particularly  devoted  to  music. 
Once  at  a  function  in  New  York  when  asked  to  sing  for 
him  the  ever  popular  "  Danny  Deever,"  I  was  all  but 
prevented  from  doing  so  by  the  rush  of  people  into  the 
room,  which  was  so  filled  in  a  moment  that  my  accom 
panist  was  unable  to  get  through  the  guards  to  the  piano. 
As  good  fortune  would  have  it  a  lady  saw  my  predica 
ment  and  volunteered  to  play  from  the  music  which  I 
happened  to  carry  in  my  hand.  Strange  to  say,  she  who 
was  thus  able  to  leap  into  the  gap  was  the  one  who  a  few 
seasons  before  had  without  preparation  stepped  from  the 
audience  on  to-  the  stage  of  Carnegie  Hall  to  sing  the 
soprano  part  in  "  The  Messiah,"  after  two  prima  donnas 
had  unexpectedly  been  incapacitated  by  illness. 

On  the  contrary,  President  Woodrow  Wilson  is  de 
voted  to  music  and  something  of  a  singer  himself,  with 
a  tenor  voice  of  considerable  power  and  sweetness. 
During  his  first  term  of  office,  while  I  was  singing  in 
Washington,  he  came  to  hear  me  and  I  called  on  him 
at  the  White  House  the  next  day,  a  meeting  I  sought  in 
order  to  lay  before  him,  as  head  of  the  nation,  my  wish 
to  have  vocal  music  taught  in  every  school,  college,  or 
university  in  the  land  to  every  American  from  early  youth 
to  manhood,  not  in  order  that  they  should  all  become 
professional  singers,  Heaven  forbid!  but  that,  through 
properly  equipped  teachers  and  visiting  artists,  they  might 
learn  to  sing  simple  folk  tunes  in  our  own  language,  in 
each  upward  grade  studying  music  more  diversified  and 


THREE  PRESIDENTS  319 

better  suited  to  their  growing  comprehensions.  The 
makers  of  music  would  thus  become  known  to  our  people 
and  the  works  of  the  great  masters  would  become  as  fa 
miliar  household  words  to  every  one  in  our  rapidly  grow 
ing  and  amazingly  diversified  population. 

As  I  pointed  out  to  the  President,  nearly  every  one  can 
by  nature  not  only  turn  a  tune,  but  sing  better  than  most 
people  —  except  their  rivals  —  think  they  can,  and  it 
soon  becomes  obvious  that  opportunity  and  even  a  little 
cultivation  brings  out  latent  talent  surprisingly.  The 
President  agreed  with  me.  He  was  not  expected  to 
commit  himself  to  placing  my  views  before  the  educa 
tional  chiefs  of  the  country,  nor  did  I  ask  him  to;  yet 
he  was  alive  to  the  value  of  music  in  private  and  public 
life,  speaking  with  pride  of  the  vocal  attainments  of  his 
daughter,  Miss  Margaret  Wilson,  who  after  study  had 
taken  her  place  in  professional  ranks,  though,  as  he  ad 
mitted,  he  had  at  first  considered  her  to  possess  nothing 
more  than  what  he  termed  "  an  inconsiderable  little  pipe." 

I  am  proud  of  having  known  Messrs.  Roosevelt,  Taft, 
and  Wilson  and  look  back  much  further  with  interest 
at  having  met  Grant  and  having  seen  Lincoln.  The  sons 
of  both  of  these  noted  Presidents  I  have  known,  having 
been  acquainted  with  General  Fred  Grant  and  with 
Colonel  Robert  Lincoln,  both  when  the  latter  was  the 
American  minister  to  Great  Britain  and  later  in  our 
native  country. 

Of  him  and  his  distinguished  father  there  comes  to 
mind  a  story  told  me  by  my  father  soon  after  the  Civil 
War,  which,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  has  never  before 
appeared  in  print.  "  Bob  "  Lincoln  and  his  brother 
1  Tad,"  who  died  in  early  youth,  were  taken  to  task  by 
President  Lincoln  for  a  noisy  quarrel  which  disturbed 


320      A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

him  at  his  work.  Calling  the  boys  before  him,  he  sternly 
demanded  the  cause  of  the  trouble.  Tad  in  tears  re 
plied,  "  Bob's  got  my  ball  and  I  want  it."  The  Presi 
dent  turned  to  his  other  son  and  said,  "  Bob,  give  Tad 
his  ball  to  keep  him  quiet."  Bob  refused,  defiantly  say 
ing,  "I  won't!  It's  mine;  and  I  want  it  to  keep  me 
quiet!" 

Though  I  did  not  sing  in  opera  from  early  1903  until 
late  in  1906,  I  was  busily  engaged  on  the  concert  plat 
form  and  more  enthusiastic  than  ever  in  giving  my  own 
song  recitals  to  such  an  extent  all  over  the  country  that 

I  am  surprised  myself  when  I  look  back  upon  the  amount 
and  variety  of  work  I  did  in  1904.     Between  January 

I 1  and  26  I  gave  five  programs  in  as  many  cities,  each 
differing  from  the  others,  yet  all  giving  examples  of  the 
older  classics  and  English  and  American  contemporane 
ous  compositions,  groups  of  songs  by  Beethoven,  Schu 
mann,   Schubert,   Loewe,   Brahms,  Jensen,  Hugo  Wolf, 
and  Richard  Strauss,  seventy-two  songs  in  all,  besides 
the  recitation  of  "  Enoch  Arden." 

After  this  I  went  to  Canada  to  sing  "  The  Creation," 
and  in  working  my  way  back  through  the  Middle  West, 
still  with  differing  programs,  I  remember  that  my  ac 
companist  asked  me :  u  Why  do  you  put  yourself  out 
to  give  varied  selections  every  night,  when  one  program 
would  answer  for  all  these  places?  "  Little  did  he  know 
me  and  my  passion  for  work.  I  have  never  let  myself 
settle  down  in  a  rut,  nor  have  I  cared  how  hard  the  work 
is.  By  so  much  as  I  am  interested,  by  just  so  much  I  find 
it  easier;  besides,  it  is  not  for  my  audiences  alone  that 
I  sing,  it  is  for  my  own  pleasure.  I  enjoy  explorations 
into  new  musical  fields  and  dislike  taking  my  exercise 
in  beaten  paths.  Surprises  always  pop  up  to  lend  a  zest 


THREE  PRESIDENTS  321 

to  labor,  as  when  I  once  arrived  in  my  native  city  ready 
to  sing,  but  had  to  send  my  audience  away  because  there 
was  no  piano  there  and  it  was  too  late  to  get  one.  And 
not  long  before  Fritzi  Scheff  and  I  went  to  Buffalo  to 
appear  together  at  the  Teck  Theatre,  where  I  had  to 
entertain  the  house  alone  until  she  arrived  an  hour  late, 
her  trunk  having  been  lost  in  the  hotel.  I  must  not  for 
get  that  the  fair  comedienne  had  just  been  married  and 
her  husband  did  not  know  American  ways  with  trunks. 

In  1904  Felix  Weingartner,  who  was  to  become  Mah 
ler's  successor  as  conductor  of  the  Court  Opera  in  Vienna, 
visited  America,  where  he  was  being  considered  for  the 
leadership  of  one  of  the  principal  orchestras.  I  sang 
at  his  concert  in  Carnegie  Hall  a  number  of  his  own 
songs,  which  he  played  for  me  with  perfect  sympathy 
and  understanding. 

After  him  came  Richard  Strauss.  The  tall,  slender, 
quiet,  business-like  man  so  flustered  me  at  first  by  his 
habitual  coldness  that,  during  his  concert  at  Carnegie 
Hall  on  March  i,  1904,  when  he  played  his  underlying 
music  to  "  Enoch  Arden  "  for  me,  though  the  piece  had 
been  in  my  repertory  about  four  years  and  my  ample 
rehearsals  of  it  with  him  had  been  satisfactory,  I  suf 
fered  so  from  stage  fright  that  I  completely  forgot  my 
lines.  I  did  not  even  know  I  had  forgotten  them;  my 
memory  became  blank,  though  it  is  vivid  enough  .now 
as  to  what  occurred.  Strauss  attempted  to  prompt  me. 
At  first  I  did  not  hear  him  at  all,  so  lost  was  I  to  the 
world.  He  spoke  a  little  louder.  I  was  only  a  few  feet 
away  at  the  bend  of  the  piano,  and  when  I  came  to  I 
found  I  could  not  understand  a  word  he  said,  his  English 
was  so  bad.  His  guttural  whisper  sounded  worse  than 
it  looks  on  paper — "  Unt  vare  vass  Aynooh,"  which 


322       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

being  interpreted  signifies  "  And  where  was  Enoch  ?  " 
By  this  time  I  was  thoroughly  aroused.  My  accom 
panist,  seated  at  Strauss's  left  to  turn  the  music,  was 
too  frightened  to  say  a  word  while  Strauss  gibbered  at 
me  more  unintelligibly  than  before  over  the  pages  of 
his  beautiful  music.  The  only  time  I  have  ever  been 
so  scared  was  when  I  was  on  the  deck  of  "  The  Flying 
Dutchman  "  and  unable  to  reach  shore.  But  my  seem 
ing  composure  never  forsook  me;  indeed,  I  rather  sus 
pect  I  gave  the  audience  the  impression  that  Strauss 
himself  was  at  fault.  It  lasted  only  a  few  seconds,  but 
it  seemed  an  eternity.  I  suddenly  recovered  my  pres 
ence  of  mind  and  the  words  of  my  text  with  it,  and  went 
on  smoothly  to  the  end.  Moments  like  these  have  con 
tributed  to  the  whiteness  of  my  naturally  red  hair. 

Later  I  sang  several  times  for  and  with  Strauss  at 
the  piano,  in  Providence,  Boston,  and  also  in  New  York, 
where  we  appeared  together  at  the  Philharmonic  Con 
cert  at  Carnegie  Hall  on  March  25,  1904,  when  it  was 
indeed  inspiring,  now  that  we  were  better  acquainted, 
to  have  his  support  in  his  beautiful  "  Hymn  of  Love," 
"  Longing,"  and  "  Song  of  the  Stonebreaker  " —  the  lat 
ter  one  of  the  strongest,  most  savage,  and  altogether  re 
markable  songs  in  all  vocal  literature. 

Many  stories  were  current  about  this  remarkable  man 
during  his  visit  to  New  York.  He  led  his  orchestra 
in  the  auditorium  at  Wanamaker's  store,  where  though 
many  beautiful  concerts  have  been  given  in  that  hall 
since,  it  was  then  such  a  departure  from  recognized  cus 
tom  that  Strauss  was  upbraided  by  his  friends  for  doing 
it.  He  replied  that  he  had  been  well  paid  and  did 
not  care  where  he  appeared,  as  he  had  come  to  America 
to  make  money.  Though  I  cannot  vouch  for  its  truth, 


THREE  PRESIDENTS  323 

there  was  a  report  that  he  said  he  would  stand  on  his 
head  in  the  street  if  he  was  paid  enough. 

At  the  dinner  given  Strauss  by  the  Lotos  Club  at  its 
old  home  in  Fifth  Avenue  near  Forty-sixth  Street,  I  sat 
next  him  while  he  wrote  some  bars  of  one  of  his  own 
most  difficult  compositions  for  me  in  spite  of  the  hum 
of  talk  and  the  blare  of  quasi-popular  music  about  us. 
During  a  discussion  about  making  musical  sounds  mean 
anything  he  said:  "  I  can  translate  anything  into  sound. 
I  can  make  you  understand  by  music  that  I  pick  up  my 
fork  and  spoon  from  this  side  of  my  plate  and  lay  them 
down  on  the  other  side." 

I  attended  the  first  performance  anywhere  of  his 
"  Domestic  Symphony "  in  Carnegie  Hall.  Far  from 
depicting  domesticity,  it  seemed  to  me  to  represent  a 
family  row  among  all  the  gods  of  Olympus;  while  in  the 
act  of  breaking  up  housekeeping  in  the  midst  of  a  primal 
hurricane  that  carried  the  roof  off  creation.  Jove 
launched  his  thunderbolts,  Vulcan  smashed  the  furniture 
with  his  hammer,  Mars  let  loose  the  dogs  of  war, 
Minerva  and  Venus  were  in  hysterics,  while  the  baby 
Cupid  had  a  fit. 

By  singing  in  the  principal  cities  of  the  United  States 
my  "  Cycle  of  Great  Song  Cycles,"  I  kept  up,  as  1904 
ended,  my  reputation  for  a  variety  of  interesting  work, 
while  in  addition  to  a  considerable  number  of  miscellane 
ous  appearances  in  other  cities  I  still  found  time  to  pre 
pare  my  own  version  of  Byron's  play  "  Manfred,"  which 
I  produced  with  Schumann's  music  on  December  4,  1904, 
with  the  New  York  Symphony  Orchestra  under  the  con- 
ductorship  of  Walter  Damrosch. 

It  was  a  further  attempt  to  fit  myself  for  the  dramatic 
stage,  to  which  I  ever  felt  strongly  drawn.  Schumann's 


324      A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

music  for  "  Manfred  "  had  not  been  done  in  America 
since  1889,  when  Possart  had  given  it,  also  under  Mr. 
Damrosch.  Previous  to  that,  however,  it  had  not  been 
given  since  1 869,  and  then  by  Edwin  Booth.  For  my  per 
formance  Edwina  Booth  (Mrs.  Grossman),  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  great  American  actor,  offered  me  the  use  of 
the  copy  from  which  her  father  had  declaimed  the  lines. 
Upon  examination  I  found  this  large  and  handsomely 
printed  folio  volume  to  be  an  English  rendering  with 
quotations  from  Byron  of  a  freely  expressed  German 
condensation  of  the  drama.  I  therefore  discarded  it  in 
favor  of  my  own  version,  which  I  found  to  fit  very  well 
with  Possart's  cues,  which  were  still  preserved  in  the 
orchestral  score.  Being  assisted  by  several  soloists  and 
a  fine  chorus  from  the  Oratorio  Society,  who  rendered  the 
vocal  numbers  allotted  to  the  Spirit  Voices,  I  keenly  en 
joyed  the  performance  of  a  notable  work  which,  except 
in  part,  I  have  never  since  brought  forward,  owing  to 
the  difficulty  of  its  proper  presentation. 

At  a  concert  in  Cincinnati  early  in  1905,  I  had  en 
gaged  to  sing  three  songs  by  Van  der  Stucken,  received 
only  a  few  nights  before ;  but  as  I  had  sung  eight  times  in 
the  ten  previous  days,  traveling  after  each  performance 
to  another  city,  I  had  no  chance  to  study  the  compositions. 
However,  as  they  were  to  be  played  by  the  composer,  I 
relied  upon  his  help.  After  one  engagement  I  was 
caught  in  a  snowstorm  and  had  to  go  by  trolley  car  to 
wait  at  a  small  place  until  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  train  was  late  and  I  did  not  get  to  bed  until  four; 
hardly  adequate  preparation  for  the  first  of  my  song  re 
citals  in  Chicago  the  next  day.  I  got  through  with  every 
thing,  though  my  Italian  manservant  fell  ill.  In  one  hotel 
I  had  neither  sleep  nor  food,  and  when  I  got  up  the  man 


THREE  PRESIDENTS  325 

in  the  adjoining  room  objected  to  my  practicing.  I 
reached  Cincinnati  just  in  time  for  the  concert,  owing 
to  another  late  train,  to  find  that  Van  der  Stucken  had 
cut  his  finger  so  badly  he  could  not  play  the  piano  at 
all.  My  talented  accompanist,  Mr.  Harold  Smith,  with 
no  more  chance  than  I  to  study  these  beautiful  songs, 
was  obliged  with  me  to  read  them  at  sight  before  a 
crowded  audience.  If  my  effort  was  not  a  success,  it  was 
equally  far  from  failure. 

Later  in  the  season  I  found  myself  in  Texas,  stranded 
at  a  railway  junction  on  the  prairie  with  the  train  several 
hours  late.  The  night  was  cold  and  inside  that  little 
shack  of  a  station  was  a  stove  almost  red  hot,  around  it 
as  motley  a  crew  of  men,  women,  and  children  as  one 
could  well  see  —  indeed  I  could  scarcely  see  them  for 
the  tobacco  smoke;  but  even  through  that  an  overwhelm 
ing  evidence  of  their  presence  came  to  my  nostrils.  Cow 
boys,  negroes,  Indians,  Chinese,  European  peasants,  dogs, 
cats,  and  babies  were  too  much  for  me,  and  rather 
than  brave  such  terrors  I  faced  the  cool  night  air  out 
side  and  went  to  bed  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
my  express  train  came  in.  I  reached  Galveston  and  had 
several  hours'  rest  before  singing  in  the  evening,  when 
the  pedals  came  off  the  piano  in  the  middle  of  the  per 
formance  and  the  rest  of  the  concert  was  continued  under 
difficulties.  Such  is  the  life  of  an  artist. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

SCULPTOR   AND   STAGE 

Life  is  a  stage,  so  play 
The  comic  way; 
Full  soon  the  skies  will  bring 
Some  tragic  thing. 

—  After  the  Greek. 

Two  men  of  the  first  importance  in  their  respective 
arts  were  to  make  the  world  the  poorer  by  their  leaving 
it  during  these  days,  and  both  were  my  friends:  the 
sculptor  Augustus  Saint  Gaudens  and  the  actor  Joseph 
Jefferson.  I  saw  them  often  at  The  Players,  and  though 
I  have  recollections  of  them  personally  and  artistically 
that  nothing  will  take  from  me,  what  impresses  me  most 
in  my  memories  of  them  is  an  almost  tragic  coinci 
dence,  whereby  their  priceless  possessions  were  destroyed 
by  fire. 

As  I  sat  down  to  breakfast  one  morning  at  the  club 
mentioned,  Mr.  Saint  Gaudens  quietly  handed  me  a  tele 
gram  from  his  wife  which  had  just  come  to  him,  say 
ing  that  his  studio  in  the  country  had  burned  down  in 
the  night  with  all  its  precious  contents.  Understanding 
what  such  a  loss  meant  to  him,  I  expressed  my  sympathy, 
to  which  he  replied  without  a  show  of  feeling: 

"  My  friend,  I  have  learned  to  take  things  as  they 
come  in  this  life  and  I  have  no  regrets  for  the  destruc 
tion  of  what  I  myself  have  brought  into  being;  almost 
everything  of  my  own  there  was  only  a  reproduction  of 
what  exists  elsewhere.  What  I  mind  most  is  the  loss 

326 


SCULPTOR  AND  STAGE  327 

of  the  gleanings  of  a  lifetime,  the  letters  of  celebrated  per 
sonages  the  world  over,  gifts  of  drawings  and  sketches, 
bronzes,  marbles,  stained  glass,  none  of  which  can  ever 
be  reproduced.  But  we  have  to  take  things  as  we  find 
them.  I  am  sorry  that  the  workman  my  wife  was  good 
enough  to  allow  to  sleep  in  the  barn  should  have  chosen 
to  light  his  pipe  when  the  wind  was  blowing  toward  the 
studio.  Won't  you  have  some  peaches?"  With  this 
he  went  on  with  his  breakfast,  quoting  as  he  did  so  the 
old  saying,  "  It's  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk." 

The  loss  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  treasures  did  not  occur 
during  his  lifetime,  but  the  destruction  is  none  the  less 
lamentable.  In  my  enthusiasm  over  the  cause  of  the  Art 
Theatre  I  had  thought  how  fine  it  would  be  if  in  its  foyer 
there  were  a  collection  of  portrait  busts  and  paintings 
of  the  shining  lights  of  the  American  stage.  When  the 
New  Theatre  came  into  being  I  obtained  promises  of 
such  mementos  from  several  persons,  among  them  the 
widow  of  Joseph  Jefferson,  who  died  in  the  spring  of 
1905.  Not  long  after  I  obtained  from  the  family  a 
promise  of  a  portrait  bust  made  in  Rome  by  the  Ameri 
can  sculptor,  Hiram  Powers.  Time  passed,  the  New 
Theatre  was  completed,  and  I  spoke  to  William  Jefferson 
about  the  gift  promised  by  his  mother,  when  with  great 
regret  he  told  me  that,  shortly  before,  the  building  in 
which  his  father's  library  and  all  the  other  relics  of  his 
artistic  life  had  been  temporarily  stored  was  burned  to  the 
ground.  What  a  loss  to  the  history  of  the  stage  of  the 
United  States ! 

Mr.  Jefferson  was  an  ardent  lover  of  the  fine  arts  and 
had  painted  many  canvases  large  and  small,  by  which, 
though  few  admired  them,  he  himself  set  great  store. 
One  of  his  intimate  friends  was  President  Grover  Cleve- 


328       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

land,  whom  Mr.  Jefferson  used  frequently  to  visit  at  his 
country  place  on  Buzzard's  Bay,  Massachusetts.  Mr. 
Cleveland  placed  at  the  actor's  disposal  an  ancient  wind 
mill  on  the  estate  as  a  studio,  and  there  the  good  old 
player  used  to  finish  sketches  made  while  visiting  his  host. 
To  the  windmill  Mr.  Cleveland  would  come  and  chat 
with  Jefferson  as  he  worked,  and  as  the  actor  lovingly 
touched  up  some  of  his  sketches  one  day,  talking  to  his 
friend  Grover  the  while,  he  said  after  a  thoughtful  si 
lence,  "  Mr.  President,  though  I  have  been  an  actor  all 
my  life  I  think  that  when  I  die  I  shall  go  down  to  fame 
as  a  painter."  Dear,  simple  soul  that  he  was,  he  little 
knew  that  the  moment  he  had  shuffled  off  this  mortal 
coil,  every  landscape  of  his  on  the  walls  of  The  Players, 
of  which  he  had  been  president  since  Edwin  Booth's 
death,  would  be  at  once  removed  by  the  art  committee. 

I  was  very  fond  of  Richard  Mansfield,  the  actor,  and 
found  him  to  be  the  most  courteous  and  considerate  of 
men.  I  was  ready  to  sing  at  his  musicales,  a  fact  which 
immediately  put  him  in  good  humor,  if  he  happened  to 
be  upset,  and  which  invariably  brought  out  in  him  his 
best  qualities  as  an  entertainer.  He  was  an  excellent 
pianist,  possessed  a  beautiful  singing  voice,  and  his  quaint- 
ness  and  originality  in  extemporization  were  remarkable. 
I  have  known  Mansfield  toward  the  close  of  one  of  his 
extraordinary  evenings  to  devise  hastily  the  general  plot 
of  a  short  operatic  domestic  tragedy,  inform  two  or  three 
others,  and  set  us  all  to  work  immediately  on  an  extem 
poraneous  performance.  Walter  Damrosch  would  per 
haps  preside  at  the  piano,  playing  an  unholy  combination 
of  old  Italian  opera,  Wagnerian  music-drama,  "  Ta-ra- 
ra-boom-de-ay,"  and  "  Danny  Deever,"  while  Marguer 
ite  Hall  as  the  heroine,  I  as  the  irate  parent,  and  Mans- 


SCULPTOR  AND  STAGE  329 

field  as  the  heavy  villain  would  sing  in  faked  Italian  lingo, 
clad  the  while  in  antique  armor  *and  mediaeval  raiment 
from  our  host's  wardrobe. 

Mansfield  adored  his  wife,  and  yet  stories  of  cruelty 
to  her  became  current  in  the  daily  papers.  In  reality 
there  was  never  a  kinder  man  in  his  family  circle  or  a 
more  genial  host,  though  his  penchant  for  practical  jok 
ing  sometimes  led  him  to  extremes  of  behavior.  For 
instance,  Mansfield  at  one  of  his  Sunday  night  dinner  par 
ties,  a  formal  occasion  attended  by  people  of  distinction 
in  social,  literary,  and  artistic  life,  ordered  his  butler  to 
remove  every  course  as  it  came  on  the  table  before  his 
guests  had  an  opportunity  to  taste  the  food  which,  though 
cooked  to  perfection  by  a  French  chef,  the  fantastic 
Richard  would  declare  unfit  to  eat.  The  appetite  of 
no  one  present  was  satisfied  by  more  than  nibbles  at 
bread,  until  the  close  -of  what  should  have  been  the  meal, 
when  our  host  permitted  ices,  fruits,  and  coffee  to  be 
served.  Then  the  amazed  disappointment  of  those  pres 
ent  was  assuaged  by  a  most  remarkable  evening's  enter 
tainment  furnished  by  the  brilliant  conversation  of  our 
eminent  host.  We  were  moved  to  uncontrollable  laugh 
ter  by  his  wit  and  to  tears  by  his  story  of  the  care  taken 
of  him  by  Madame  Edna  Hall  in  Boston,  when  as  a  youth 
his  own  mother  had  turned  him  off,  and  the  evening  ended 
with  beautiful  music. 

I  was  present  in  Chicago  at  one  of  his  early  perform 
ances  of  "  Julius  Caesar."  Mansfield  had  confided  to  me 
that  it  was  his  original  intention  to  double  the  parts  of 
Caesar  and  Brutus.  I  was  astonished  to  find  that  he 
permitted  Arthur  Forrest,  who  gave  a  fine  performance 
of  Mark  Antony,  to  take  every  curtain  call  of  the  eve 
ning,  he  himself  taking  not  one  throughout  the  season. 


330       A  QUAKER   SINGER'S   RECOLLECTIONS 

This,  as  I  afterward  learned,  was  by  way  of  apologizing 
to  Forrest  for  what  had  occurred  the  year  before  when, 
in  a  moment  of  excitement,  he  had  gone  out  of  his  part 
and  taken  Forrest  to  task  in  hearing  of  the  audience  for  a 
fancied  departure  from  the  business  of  the  scene.  For 
rest  left  the  company  that  night  thinking  never  to  see  his 
old  friend  again  after  supporting  him  for  so  many  years. 
Only  a  little  while  later,  Mansfield  met  Forrest  on  Broad 
way  and,  as  if  nothing  had  happened  to  mar  the  cordiality 
of  their  intercourse,  offered  him  what  the  actors  call  the 
"  fat  "  part  of  Mark  Antony,  accepting  the  less  showy 
part  of  Brutus  for  himself  and  giving  all  the  honors  to 
his  colleague. 

On  the  afternoon  of  May  2,  1905,  there  took  place 
at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  a  musical  and  dra 
matic  performance,  arranged  by  Daniel  Frohman  as  a 
testimonial  to  Madame  Helena  Modjeska,  who  was 
about  to  leave  the  stage  she  had  so  adorned  in  the  United 
States  for  many  years.  Many  of  the  most  noted  Amer 
ican  actors  and  actresses  of  the  day  were  present,  with 
visiting  artists  from  Europe,  among  them  the  celebrated 
de  Pachmann  at  the  piano  in  place  of  Paderewski,  who 
had  his  hand  injured  in  a  railway  accident  a  little  while 
before.  Paderewski  sent  the  following  letter  to  Mr. 
Frohman,  which  I  was  requested  to  read  to  the  audience : 

DEAR  MR.  FROHMAN: 

For  many  months  I  have  been  looking  forward  to  the  2nd  of 
May  and  anticipating  one  of  the  greatest  joys  of  my  career. 

The  thought  of  joining  you  all  on  this  solemn  occasion  has 
been  my  pride  for  many  months.  The  sudden  adversity  of  Fate 
makes  me  feel  now  grieved  and  humiliated,  and  words  cannot 
express  all  the  bitterness  of  my  disappointment;  but  there  is  still 
a  pride  and  joy  I  cannot  be  deprived  of:  the  pride  of  belonging 


SCULPTOR  AND  STAGE  331 

to  the  country,  to  the  same  race  which  sent  into  the  wide  world 
one  of  the  greatest  and  noblest  artists  of  all  times  and  stations; 
the  joy  of  being  one  of  the  many  to  whom  Madame  Modjeska 
has  been  good,  kind,  and  generous. 

My  first  encouraging  words  as  a  pianist  came  from  her  lips; 
the  first  successful  concert  that  I  had  in  my  life  was  due  to  her 
assistance. 

Unable  to  be  present,   I   beg  of  you  to  convey  to  Madame 

•Modjeska  the  homage  of  my  profound  admiration  and  gratitude, 

and  to  extend  my  sincere  thanks  to  all  who  contribute  to  make 

this  day  a  day  of  legitimate  and  crowning  triumph  for  a  career 

great,  noble,  pure,  and  beautiful. 

Sincerely  yours, 

IGNACE  J.  PADEREWSKI. 

A  delightful  sense  of  humor  was  not  the  least  of 
Madame  Modjeska's  many  attractions.  She  was  once 
asked  to  be  the  guest  of  honor  at  a  reception  in  Boston, 
when  her  hostess,  not  quite  aware  of  the  convenances, 
requested  her  to  recite.  The  eminent  actress  without 
hesitation  launched  forth  in  a  declamation  which  appar 
ently  called  upon  every  resource  of  her  histrionic  art, 
moving  her  auditors  to  smiles  or  tears  as  she  willed. 
One  of  the  company  went  out  into  an  anteroom  and 
found  there  Count  Bozenta,  Modjeska's  husband,  and 
her  manager  doubled  up  with  laughter  which  they  were 
trying  to  keep  from  reaching  the  other  room.  "  What 
do  you  find  amusing  in  that?"  indignantly  demanded 
the  newcomer,  scenting  disrespect  to  a  performance  so 
fine.  He  was  enlightened  immediately.  "  Madame  is 
repeating  the  numerals  up  to  a  hundred  in  Polish,"  said 
the  Count. 

Paderewski  was  the  best  balanced  pianist,  indeed  the 
best  balanced  all  round  artist,  that  I  ever  knew;  but  de 
Pachmann,  however  distinguished,  was  a  different  sort 


332       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

of  person.  Notwithstanding  his  acknowledged  skill,  es 
pecially  in  the  interpretation  of  the  works  of  Chopin, 
he  behaved  so  peculiarly  on  the  stage,  with  physical  and 
facial  contortions  so  simian,  that  a  witty  reviewer  ob 
served  that  "  he  played  in  a  rrfanner  almost  human."  At 
times  he  would  place  music  upon  the  piano,  though  he  had 
no  need  whatever  for  the  printed  page,  in  a  minute  or 
two  convulsing  his  audience  by  a  gesture  of  surprise, 
after  which  he  would  turn  the  music  upside  down  and 
proceed  with  apparent  relief. 

I  came  down  to  a  hotel  breakfast  once  and  found  him 
finishing  his  own  meal.  As  I  went  to  shake  hands  with 
him,  for  I  had  not  seen  him  for  some  time,  he  looked 
up  at  me  as  though  I  had  been  a  stranger.  Realizing 
that  he  was  in  one  of  his  moods,  I  introduced  myself  by 
name;  but,  -apparently  annoyed,  he  shook  his  head  vio 
lently  as  he  consumed  the  last  of  his  egg,  saying:  "  Bis 
marck!  Bismarck!  I  don't  know  Bismarck."  Much 
amused,  I  sat  at  another  table  to  see  what  was  going  to 
happen.  When  the  waiter  handed  him  his  bill,  he  rose 
and  made  a  deep  bow,  dismissing  him  at  last  with  a  large 
fee  and  an  exaggerated  flourish,  immediately  after  which 
he  came  over,  sat  down  with  me,  and  began  to  talk  in  the 
most  natural  manner  in  the  world. 

For  some  time  I  had  been  corresponding  with  my 
friend  Liza  Lehmann  (Mrs.  Herbert  Bedford),  regard 
ing  her  composing  an  opera  for  me  on  Goldsmith's  "  The 
Vicar  of  Wakefield."  She  asked  Austin  Dobson  to  adapt 
the  story  and  write  the  dialogue  and  lyrics,  but  he  was  too 
busy.  The  preparation  of  the  book,  which  was  to  con 
tain  instrumental  and  vocal  music  after  the  manner  of 
opera  comique  as  known  in  Paris,  was  intrusted  to  Lau 
rence  Housmann,  to  whom  and  to  his  sister  had  been 


SCULPTOR  AND  STAGE  333 

traced  the  authorship  of  the  beautiful  anonymous  work, 
"  An  Englishwoman's  Love  Letters,"  which  added  a 
luster  to  a  name  already  made  famous  by  their  brother, 
Alfred  Edward  Housmann,  author  of  u  The  Shropshire 
Lad."  I  had  been  in  London  during  the  summer  of 
1905  in  consultation  with  Madame  Lehmann  and  Mr. 
Housmann.  Madame  Lehmann's  music  was  beautiful 
and  Mr.  Housmann's  dialogue  excellent,  but  it  was  far 
too  long  and  had  to  be  cut  severely.  An  offer  to  pro 
duce  the  piece  was  made  to  me  by  the  Shubert  brothers, 
and  another  was  received  from  a  Chicago  manager,  who 
heard  of  the  work  and  came  on  to  acquaint  himself  with 
the  manuscript  and  music,  growing  so  enthusiastic  that 
he  made  me  an  offer  I  could  hardly  refuse.  I  thought  it 
best,  however,  to  produce  the  opera  in  London,  where  I 
could  not  only  obtain  a  better  cast  than  was  available 
in  New  York,  but  where  I  could  have  the  authors'  help. 

Unfortunately,  Mr.  Housmann  saw  nothing  of  the 
work  until  the  dress  rehearsal,  when  he  was  so  annoyed 
by  what  he  considered  the  mutilation  of  his  lines,  that 
he  disclaimed  the  authorship  of  the  book.  Besides  los 
ing  a  season's  labor  and  its  expected  emolument  I  lost 
in  him  one  whom  I  would  fain  call  my  friend,  and  as 
beautiful  a  light  romantic  opera  comique  as  ever  was 
put  upon  the  boards  fell  between  the  stools  of  grand 
and  comic  opera  and  failed  to  satisfy  the  adherents  of 
either. 

I  had  trouble  in  finding  a  tenor  for  the  part  of  Squire 
Thornhill  and  was  about  to  engage  Walter  Hyde  when 
Madame  Lehmann  begged  me  first  to  hear  a  young  man 
whose  voice  had  just  been  brought  to  her  attention.  Ac 
cordingly,  one  Sunday  afternoon  in  September,  1906,  I 
went  with  my  conductor,  the  late  Hamish  MaoCunn,  and 


334      A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

my  manager,  Bram  Stoker,  so  long  Sir  Henry  Irving's 
right-hand  man,  to  Madame  Lehmann's  house  at  Wim 
bledon,  where  we  heard  several  selections  beautifully 
rendered  by  a  young  Irishman  named  John  McCormack. 
After  he  had  sung,  my  dear  Liza  took  me  into  the  next 
room  and  enthusiastically  said,  "  David,  if  you  don't  en 
gage  him  you're  a  fool.  He  has  an  angel's  voice." 
'  True,"  said  I,  "  but  he  has  an  Irishman's  brogue." 
"  He  can  get  over  that,"  said  she  fervently.  "  Send 
him  to  Richard  Temple  for  lessons."  This  famous  art 
ist,  after,  years  at  the  Savoy  Theatre,  upon  Sir  Arthur 
Sullivan's  death  became  a  professor  of  spoken  English  in 
the  Royal  College  of  Music. 

I  presently  took  McCormack  aside  and  said,  "  If  I 
engage  you  for  this  part,  you  must  try  to  get  over  your 
brogue."  "  Sure,"  said  he,  in  his  delightful  way,  "  it's 
no  matter  at  all  —  at  all !  Oliver  Goldsmith  was  born 
just  two  mile  over  the  hill  from  where  I  came  from." 
"True,"  I  replied;  "I  know  Oliver  Goldsmith  was  an 
Irishman ;  but  he  wrote  an  English  story,  and  it  will  never 
do  for  you  to  play  the  part  of  Squire  Thornhill  with  a 
brogue." 

Though  Mr.  McCormack  accepted  the  part,  he  found 
it  unsuitable  and  soon  returned  it.  Walter  Hyde,  who 
was  originally  in  my  mind,  was  secured  in  McCormack's 
place  and  in  the  short  time  left  learned  the  opera  and 
gave  a  beautiful  performance.  Richard  Temple  was  ad 
mirable  as  Mr.  Burchell  and  Mr.  Lander  played  the  part 
of  the  rascally  Jenkinson,  which  fitted  him  like  a  glove; 
Mrs.  Primrose,  the  vicar's  wife,  was  played  to  perfection 
by  that  most  sympathetic  of  comediennes,  Mrs.  Theo 
dore  Wright;  the  daughter  Sophia  and  the  boys  Moses, 
Dick,  and  Bill  were  performed  as  if  Goldsmith's  char- 


SCULPTOR  AND  STAGE  335 

acters  had  come  to  life;  while  in  the  charming  Miss  Isabel 
Jay  I  had  the  one  woman  on  the  London  stage  who  filled 
the  eye  as  well  as  the  ear  in  her  rendering  of  the  part  of 
the  wayward  but  captivating  Olivia. 

Keen  interest  was  felt  in  the  presentation.  "  The 
Vicar"  had  not  been  seen  in  London  since  Henry  Irving 
had  put  on  a  version  of  the  story  under  the  title  of 
"  Olivia,"  though  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan,  I  understood,  in 
tended  to  set  the  old  romance  to  music,  and  had  made  a 
number  of  sketches  to  that  end. 

My  production  was  such  a  surprise  to  a  representative 
of  the  Opera  Comique  from  Paris,  who  was  in  one  of 
the  boxes  on  the  first  night,  that  he  declared  it  pressed 
hard  anything  he  had  ever  seen  at  his  own  theatre. 

After  a  period  of  fluctuating  attendance  and  toward 
the  close  of  our  two  months'  season,  my  opera  was  vis 
ited  by  agents  of  the  Schubert  brothers  and  these  two 
hardened  theatregoers  were  so  moved  by  the  beauty  and 
pathos  of  the  piece  that  they  cabled  their  employers. 
As  a  result  I  was  again  offered  a  New  York  production 
by  them.  But  I  had  had  enough;  the  elusive  game  was 
not  worth  the  theatrical  candle,  which  burns  so  readily  at 
both  ends.  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  I  find  in  my 
memoranda  to  be  numbered  as  the  1404^  work  I  had 
performed  up  to  that  time. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

SPEAKING   WITH    TONGUES 

We  must  be  free  or  die,  who  speak  the  tongue 
That  Shakespeare  spake ;  the  faith  and  morals  hold 
Which  Milton  held. —  Wordsworth. 

DISAPPOINTED  in  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  in  Lon 
don,  but  aware  of  the  need  for  taking  the  good  with  the 
ill  in  my  journey  through  life,  I  started  on  my  prear 
ranged  American  tour  in  the  autumn  of  1907,  beginning 
with  a  recital  of  my  own  at  Carnegie  Hall. 

After  wandering  in  my  native  land  much  farther  than 
"  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,"  I  found  myself  giving  one 
of  my  recitals  in  Boston  on  December  i  at  Symphony 
Hall,  a  place  associated  with  perfect  productions.  I 
had  appeared  there  satisfactorily  on  many  previous  oc 
casions,  but  now  my  accompanist  had  no  sooner  seated 
himself  at  the  piano  and  struck  a  full  chord  with  his  foot 
on  the  pedal  than  everybody  knew  something  was  wrong. 
The  pedal  stuck  so  that  no  effort  induced  it  to  let  go  its 
hold.  My  audience,  at  first  patient,  began  to  fidget,  and 
I  to  perspire  from  sheer  nervousness.  Finally  I  asked  if 
there  were  any  one  in  the  audience  accustomed  to  pianos, 
begging  him  to  come  on  the  stage  and  adjust  the  balky 
mechanism.  A  man  accordingly  stepped  up  on  the  plat 
form,  got  himself  under  the  piano,  and  indulged  in 
physical  contortions  that  mightily  amused  the  people. 
No  other  good  piano  being  available  and  this  instrument 
having  failed  us,  in  the  attempt  to  proceed  an  old,  dirty, 

336 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES  337 

tuneless  upright  instrument  was  found  in  some  out-of- 
the-way  place,  dragged  on  the  stage,  and  my  concert  pro 
ceeded  to  its  uncomfortable  and  unworthy  conclusion. 

Early  in  1908  I  had  the  opportunity  of  meeting  and 
singing  with  Madame  Teresa  Carreno,  under  the  con- 
ductorship  of  Wassili  Safonoff,  then  directing  the  Phil 
harmonic  Orchestra  of  New  York,  and  again  on  the  oc 
casion  of  a  memorial  concert  with  music  by  the  late  Ed 
ward  A.  MacDowell  at  Carnegie  Hall,  on  the  evening 
of  March  31,  when  as  so  often  both  before  and  since  I 
brought  forward  a  number  of  carefully  selected  songs 
by  that  representative  American  composer,  whose  career 
illness  ruined  and  death  brought  to  a  close,  all  too  soon 
for  the  good  of  our  national  art.  Listening  to  the  dis 
tinguished  Madame  Carreno  play  his  Piano  Concerto, 
I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  story  so  often  told  of  this 
talented  but  much  married  lady,  of  whom  a  reviewer  in 
Europe  once  said  of  her  concert  of  the  preceding  day 
that  "  She  performed  for  the  first  time  the  second  con 
certo  of  her  third  husband." 

Filled  with  the  desire  to  become  a  tragedian  or  co 
median,  I  did  not  care  which,  after  my  success  in  the 
"  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  "  I  prepared  with  great 
care  a  condensation  of  the  dialogue  of  Sophocles's  "  An 
tigone,"  using  Plumptre's  translation,  and  performing 
this  for  the  first  time  it  had  been  given  in  many  years. 
I  recited  it  with  the  Orpheus  Club  in  Philadelphia  on 
February  8.  The  chorus  of  the  club,  augmented  to  120 
men  and  conducted  by  Horatio  Parker,  gave  a  majestic 
rendering  of  the  noble  choruses.  As  I  delivered  the 
stirring  lines,  which  I  have  done  since  many  times,  I  could 
not  help  contrasting  my  rendering  of  this  tragedy  with 
Shakespeare'.s  comedy,  and  remembered  the  story  told 


338       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

of  David  Garrick,  greatest  of  English  tragedians,  who 
was  also  a  fine  comedian.  It  is  said  that  when  one  of 
his  friends,  congratulating  him  upon  his  skill  in  either 
phase  of  the  dramatic  art,  asked  him  which  he  preferred, 
Garrick  after  a  moment's  thought  replied  that  tragedy 
with  its  noble  lines  was  certainly  grateful.  "  But  com 
edy?  Ah,  comedy  is  a  very  serious  matter." 

Ever  interested  in  the  growth  of  music  by  American 
composers,  I  gave  on  April  18,  1909,  at  Carnegie  Hall 
an  orchestral  concert  on  behalf  of  the  American  Music 
Society,  when  besides  orchestral  music  by  MacDowell, 
•Chadwick,  Arthur  Powell,  and  Harry  Rowe  Shelley,  I 
included  in  the  program  the  prelude  to  William  J.  Mc 
Coy's  music  drama  u  The  Hamadryads,"  so  successfully 
performed  by  the  Bohemian  Club  in  the  redwood  for 
est  of  California.  I  also  recited  with  orchestra  Poe's 
"  Raven  "  to  Mr.  Bergh's  music,  and  produced  for  the 
first  time  in  New  York  the  four-songs  with  viola  obbligato 
by  Charles  Martin  Loeffler  of  Boston,  a  musician  Amer 
ican  by  adoption  and  long  residence,  but  most  modernly 
French  in  his  compositions. 

In  the  spring  of  1909  I  made  one  of  many  journeys  to 
the  Pacific  Coast  and  had  the  pleasure,  on  March  27, 
1909,  of  giving  a  recital  in  the  Greek  Theatre  at  the 
University  of  California.  Before  going  on  the  stage 
I  was  thoughtfully  taken  to  peep  through  the  curtain 
into  the  vast  auditorium  lest  I  should  be  overcome  by 
its  majestic  dimensions  and  make  undue  effort  to  fill  a 
space  so  vast.  The  Greek  Theatre  is  nearly  perfect 
acoustically  and  it  was  not  necessary  to  sing  more  forcibly 
than  in  an  ordinary  concert  hall.  When  I  rendered  in 
the  open  air  Schubert's  beautiful  "Hark!  Hark!  the 
Lark,"  through  the  delicacy  of  the  music  birds  could 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES  339 

be  heard  singing  in  the  trees  overlooking  and  overhang 
ing  the  back  of  the  auditorium.  The  Right  Honorable 
James  Bryce,  the  British  ambassador,  was  sitting  there 
with  President  Benjamin  Ide  Wheeler  of  the  University, 
who  assured  me  afterward  that  the  slightest  sound  of 
my  voice  could  be  heard  perfectly  despite  the  distance 
that  separated  them  from  the  stage. 

In  San  Francisco  that  year  I  was  entertained,  for  the 
first  time  since  the  disaster  that  destroyed  so  much  of 
it,  at  the  temporary  quarters  of  the  Bohemian  Club, 
myself  reciting  "  The  Raven."  After  resuming  my 
place  at  table  I  saw  that  my  friend  Charles  K.  Field,  a 
kinsman  of  the  poet  Eugene  Field,  was  writing  upon  the 
back  of  his  menu,  though  carrying  on  an  animated  con 
versation  the  while.  Presently  he  asked  me  quietly, 
'  You  will  not  mind,  I  hope,  anything  done  at  your  ex 
pense;  we  chaff  each  other  a  good  deal  in  this  club." 
I  assured  him  he  need  have  no  fear  of  my  taking  offense. 
Motioning  to  a  clever  amateur  pianist,  the  two  took  the 
platform  I  had  just  left  and  gave  a  travesty  of  both  the 
words  and  music  of  "  The  Raven."  The  accompanist 
had  caught  marvelously  the  principal  themes,  which  he 
wove  into  popular  music  of  the  day,  mingled  with  strains 
from  the  Wagnerian  parts  in  which  he  had  heard  me, 
while  Field  not  only  parodied  the  verses,  but  caricatured 
me  and  satirized  the  management  of  the  club,  giving  at 
the  close  the  tragic  line,  "  Tea  and  toast,  and  nothing 
more !  " 

Later  that  season  I  took  part  in  the  music  festival 
given  at  Northwestern  University  in  Evanston,  Illinois, 
under  such  distinguished  direction  and  general  circum 
stances  that  these  events  have  become  noted  throughout 
America  for  their  artistic  value.  To  Professor  Peter 


340       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

C.  Lutkin  belongs  most  of  the  credit  for  these  dignified 
annual  offerings. 

My  principal  work  was  the  rendering  of  the  title  role 
in  Mendelssohn's  "  Elijah,"  so  frequently  performed  and 
so  grateful  to  me.  At  Evanston  on  June  5  I  was  sur 
rounded  by  a  truly  grand  chorus,  accompanied  by  the 
entire  Theodore  Thomas  Orchestra  from  Chicago,  and 
had  an  enormous  and  enthusiastic  audience.  Only  a  few 
rows  away  in  front  of  me  sat  the  aged  Mr.  Kappes,  who 
had  been  the  intimate  friend  of  Mendelssohn  and  had 
heard  the  first  performance  of  the  oratorio  sixty-three 
years  before. 

After  Madame  Schumann-Heink  had  sung  superbly 
at  an  afternoon  performance  and  was  receiving  the  con 
gratulations  of  the  committee  and  her  many  friends  in 
the  artists'  room,,  she  called  to  her  side  her  little  boy. 
His  mother  and  I  just  prior  to  his  advent  ten  years  be 
fore  had  sung  frequently  together  in  opera.  To  Madame 
Schumann-Heink  tragedy  and  comedy  follow  each  other 
as  the  day  the  night,  and  after  serious  selections  from 
Wagner  and  Schubert  grandly  sung,  she  was  in  one  of 
her  witty  moods.  As  the  lad  came  to  her  side,  and  be 
fore  the  assembled  company,  the  great  contralto  intro 
duced  him  to  me  as  follows :  "  Come  here,  my  dear,  and 
shake  hands  with  my  old  friend,  David  Bispham.  He 
knew  you  very  well  before  you  were  born." 

September  21,  1909,  I  visited  Mark  Twain  at  his  beau 
tiful  new  house  called  "  Stormfield  "  near  Redding,  Con 
necticut,  in  order  to  take  part  the  next  day  in  a  concert 
to  be  given  in  his  drawing-room  for  the  benefit  of  a  library 
he  had  recently  founded  in  the  village.  The  affair  was 
carried  through  with  'Miss  Clara  Clemens,  the  distin 
guished  author's  daughter,  and  Ossip  Gabrilowitsch  the 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES  341 

pianist,  to  whom  she  became  engaged  to  be  married  that 
day. 

The  world-renowned  novelist,  whom  I  long  had  known, 
spent  the  morning  half  dressed  in  bed  talking  to  me. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  charming  than  his  casual 
conversation  as,  in  slippers  and  dressing  gown,  he  leaned 
on  one  elbow  in  his  pillow  smoking  a  great  pipe,  and 
indulged  in  reminiscences  mingled  with  wit  and  wisdom, 
or  with  sarcasm  and  invective  against  whatever  was  going 
on  in  the  world  that  did  not  please  him. 

Every  room  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  spacious  house 
was  filled  to  the  last  inch  that  afternoon  by  a  crowd  that 
spread  up  the  stairways,  on  the  balcony,  out  into  the  per 
gola,  anywhere  indeed  from  which  the  music  could  be 
heard,  even  if  we  performers  could  not  be  seen. 

We  were  introduced  by  Mark  Twain  himself  clad  in 
his  distinctive  suit  of  white  flannel,  which  served  to  set  off 
his  magnificent  head  of  snowy  hair,  and  he  was  in  great 
fettle.  After  a  little  speech  which  convulsed  his  hearers, 
he  presented  us  who  were  to  make  music  for  his  guests, 
saying  shrewd  and  complimentary  things  about  each  one 
of  us  men,  and  in  conclusion:  'While  Mr.  Gabrilo- 
witsch  and  Mr.  Bispham  are  much  better  known  than  my 
daughter,  they  are  not  near  so  good  looking." 

I  was  still  concertizing  all  over  the  country  and  ap 
pearing  with  clubs,  at  colleges,  universities,  and  such  con 
servatories  of  music  as  the  Peabody  Institute  of  Balti 
more,  and  was  asked  by  the  Harvard  Club  of  New  York 
to  sing  on  January  30,  1910,  at  the  first  of  what  proved 
to  be  an  annual  series  of  concerts  extending  over  nine 
years;  and  in  the  spring  produced  at  the  New  York  Thea 
tre  in  connection  with  the  Lambs  Club  for  their  Ladies 
Annual  Gambol  an  excellent  one  act  grand  opera  en- 


342       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

titled  "  The  Anniversary,"  by  Robert  Hood  Bowers, 
which  unfortunately  has  never  been  heard  since. 

During  1910  I  was  engaged  by  the  authorities  of  the 
Ohio  Valley  Exposition,  to  be  held  in  Cincinnati  in  Sep 
tember,  for  the  principal  barytone  part  of  the  romantic 
grand  opera  "  Paoletta,"  written  by  Paul  Jones,  a  local 
painter-poet,  and  composed  by  Pietro  Floridia,  an  Italian 
professor  in  the  Cincinnati  College  of  Music.  All  the 
singers  were  Americans  and  the  work  was  sung  in  Eng 
lish;  the  chorus  of  150  was  drawn  from  the  ranks  of  the 
May  Festival  chorus,  and  the  orchestra  consisted  of 
picked  men  from  the  Symphony  Orchestra,  all  of  Cin 
cinnati. 

I  acted  the  part  of  Gomarez,  an  old  Moorish  magician 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  whose  love  for  the  king's  daughter 
gets  him  laughed  and  jeered  out  of  the  court.  In  his 
despair  he  invokes  his  gods  and  prays  for  the  restoration 
of  his  youth,  and  his  prayer  is  granted.  This  powerful 
invocation  is  an  admirable  piece  of  modern  declamatory 
writing,  and  I  have  used  it  frequently  in  my  recitals. 

I  delighted  in  the  impersonation  of  the  character  of 
the  Moor  and  in  making  the  quick  change  between  age 
and  the  prime  of  manhood,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
opera  sank  away  in  sight  of  the  audience  into  senility 
and  death.  The  opera  as  a  whole  contains  so  many  beau 
tiful  passages,  that  I  am  surprised  that  it  has  never  been 
taken  up  by  the  Metropolitan  Opera  Company,  to  whose 
consideration  I  heartily  recommend  it. 

Ever  since  the  production  of  my  "  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field  "  in  London,  and  since  the  shock  I  received  from 
a  certain  lady  who  spoke  disparagingly  of  "  that  rotten 
music  in  English,"  I  have  been  more  than  ever  addicted 
to  the  use  of  our  own  language  in  my  concerts,  framing 


DAVID  BISPHAM 

as  Gom^rez  in   Floridia's 
"  Paoletta." 


GOMAREZ  —  REJUVENATED 

From    Photographs    by    BellsmitJi, 
Cincinnati 


DAVID  BISPHAM 

The  death  of  Gomarez  in  Floridia's  "  Paoletta.' 
From  a  Photograph  by  Bellsmith,  Cincinnati 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES  343 

many  programs  without  using  any  foreign  tongues,  even 
though  many  of  the  finest  songs  were  originally  writ 
ten  in  them.  Our  speech,  though  richer  than  any  other 
in  its  possibilities,  has  not  been  wisely  used  by  those 
music  publishers  who  seek  to  supply  songs  in  foreign 
tongues  with  English  versions.  Instead  of  employing 
poets  of  musical  tendency  with  a  copious  vocabulary  and 
well-turned  phrases  at  their  command,  the  publishers 
seem  to  have  committed  German  poems  to  men  familiar 
enough  with  the  original  but  not  sufficiently  conversant 
with  English.  This  has  resulted  in  operatic  libretti  and 
hundreds  of  songs  being  issued  in  a  variety  of  transla 
tions,  most  of  which  are  bad  and  some  of  them  ludicrous. 
I  have  therefore  sought  out  the  best  available  versions, 
though  my  confreres  seem  unaware  that  many  English 
and  American  poets  have  beautifully  translated  the  Ger 
man  classics.  I  speak  of  German  more  particularly,  be 
cause  so  much  of  the  best  vocal  music  is  by  Teutonic 
composers.  While  English-speaking  poets  of  rank  have 
translated  German  classics,  the  German  composers  have 
used  the  British  poets.  Beethoven,  Schubert,  Schumann, 
Robert  Franz,  and  Loewe  took  words  by  Shakespeare, 
Burns,  Scott,  Byron,  and  Moore,  turned  into  their  own 
language,  all  of  which  are  directly  transferable  to  the 
original. 

I  also  comment  in  my  concerts  on  the  subject  of  our 
language  in  song,  giving  u  lecture  recitals  "  which  dwell 
upon  the  beauty  of  our  native  tongue.  It  would  be  as 
absurd  for  a  lecturer  before  an  English-speaking  audi 
ence  to  give  part  of  his  discourse  in  French,  part  in  Ger 
man,  and  another  part  in  Italian,  as  for  a  singer  to  expect 
unqualified  welcome  for  songs  in  foreign  languages  which 


DAVID  BISPH AM 
From  a  sketch  by  J.  A.  Cahill,  San  Francisco 


344 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES  345 

he  himself  but  imperfectly  understands  and  which  his 
audience  does  not  understand  at  all. 

The  trouble  has  been,  however,  that  the  English  lan 
guage  has  not  been  properly  taught  in  our  schools.  To 
all  American  singers  I  say,  sing  your  songs  in  well-chosen 
English  if  singing  to  an  English-speaking  audience,  and 
sing  them  so  that  every  one  understands  your  words ;  enun 
ciate  so  clearly  that  the  audience  can  tell  even  how  every 
word  is  spelled.  Get  away  from  this  foreign-language 
fad  and  you  will  find  yourself  nearer  the  heart  of  your 
public.  I  often  quote  from  the  I4th  chapter  of  St.  Paul's 
First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  where  he  says:  "  Now 
brethren,  if  I  come  unto  you  speaking  with  tongues,  what 
shall  I  profit  you?  .  .  .  Even  things  without  life,  giv 
ing  sound,  as  with  pipe  or  harp,  except  they  give  a  dis 
tinction  in  the  sound,  how  shall  it  be  known  what  is  piped 
or  harped?  ...  So  likewise  ye,  except  ye  utter  by  the 
tongue  words  easy  to  be  understood,  how  shall  it  be  known 
what  is  spoken?  "  And  the  Apostle  goes  on  to  say,  u  I 
will  sing  with  the  spirit,  and  I  will  sing  with  the  un 
derstanding  also.  ...  I  had  rather  speak  five  words 
with  my  understanding,  that  by  my  voice  I  might  teach 
others  also,  than  ten  thousand  words  in  an  unknown 
tongue." 

Realizing  how  often  a  one-man  concert  becomes  try 
ing  to  those  accustomed  to  a  greater  variety  of  musical 
fare,  I  find  such  remarks  are  not  only  appreciated  by  the 
public,  but  are  expatiated  on  by  the  press,  which,  I  am 
glad  to  say,  is  almost  entirely  with  me.  I  also  indulge 
myself  in  a  change  of  concert  manners  by  staying  on 
the  platform  after  most  of  my  groups  of  songs,  instead 
of  leaving  it  every  few  minutes;  for,  as  I  explain,  letting 


346       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

my  audience  into  professional  secrets,  most  artists  after 
singing  bow  themselves  off  the  stage  to  listen,  unseen, 
for  the  applause  they  fondly  hope  will  bring  them  back 
to  take  an  encore.  For  my  own  part,  I  would  rather 
give  an  encore  plainly  expected  than  to  go  off  for  rest 
I  do  not  need,  alone  in  a  dark,  stuffy,  and  generally  un 
comfortable  waiting  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

PROGRAM   MAKING 

The  difficulty  in  life  is  the  choice. 

—  George  Moore. 

PROGRAM  making  is  not  the  easy  thing  that  it  may  at 
first  glance  appear  to  'be.  It  will  not  do  to  set  down  at 
random  a  number  of  songs  and  expect  them,  however 
beautiful  in  themselves  or  however  well  sung,  to  fit  prop 
erly  together;  they  must  be  chosen  with  care  and  with 
the  knowledge  of  the  literature  of  song,  which  it  is  better 
to  possess  than  to  engage  another  to  provide. 

The  number  of  songs  that  I  have  actually  sung  amounts 
to  about  fourteen  hundred.  My  endeavor  has  always 
been  to  choose  from  these  for  the  many  song  recitals  I 
have  given  —  some  eight  hundred  in  the  past  twenty-five 
years  —  so  that  every  program  shall  bear  a  resemblance 
to  a  symphony,  the  four  movements  of  which  are  in  a 
manner  exemplified  by  four  song  groups,  each  so  con 
structed  as  to  have  a  distinct  character  of  its  own  and 
yet  a  direct  relation  to  the  whole  scheme  of  sound  and 
of  sense. 

Many  kinds  of  programs  may  be  made,  some  entirely 
classic,  others  illustrative  of  this  period  or  that,  of  one 
school  or  another;  but  the  finest  program  is  that  which 
has  been  so  arranged  as  to  contain  notable  examples  of  a 
variety  of  times  and  styles,  so  combined  as  not  only  to 
entertain  the  average  person,  but  to  hold  the  interest  of 
even  the  most  experienced  concert  goer. 

347 


348       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

The  older  classics  of  European  countries,  including  ex 
cerpts  from  oratorio,  should  set  the  standard  for  a  pro 
gram  of  this  sort.  They  should  seldom  be  given  at  the 
end  of  a  concert,  while  the  modern  selections  suitable  for 
the  conclusion  of  such  an  entertainment  should  never  be 
used  at  its  opening;  that  would  be  like  serving  dessert 
at  the  beginning  of  a  meal.  The  second  group  should 
consist  of  songs  representative  of  the  great  period  that 
began  with  Beethoven  and  continued  through  the  Roman 
ticists,  Schubert  and  Schumann,  to  Brahms.  A  third 
group  might  feature  operatic  selections  not  often  heard 
upon  the  stage,  ballads  by  Loewe,  songs  by  Franz,  Grieg, 
or  Strauss  —  the  combinations  to  be  made  are,  of  course, 
infinite.  But  the  last  group  of  a  recital,  whether  it  con 
sist  of  English,  American,  or  foreign  composers  of  the 
present  time,  must  be  of  such  a  character  as  to  send 
the  people  away  sorry  to  go,  but  glad  that  they  have 
come.  I  have  often  found  that  at  the  end  of  such  a 
concert  the  homely  ditties  of  the  British  Isles  or  folk 
songs,  including  American  negro  "  Spirituals,"  are  very 
useful. 

Realizing  that  an  audience  may  become  weary  of  hear 
ing  even  the  best  voice  of  one  singer,  the  judicious  re- 
citalist,  in  all  programs,  will  take  especial  care  so  to 
combine  the  component  parts  of  each  group  as  to  afford 
a  change  of  key  as  well  as  of  tempo  and  general  character 
of  the  songs.  Nothing  is  more  wearisome  than  one  long- 
drawn  selection  following  another  in  the  same,  or  nearly 
related,  soporific  key.  I  myself  have  peacefully  slum 
bered  under  the  soothing  influence  of  an  artist,  rich 
voiced,  but  regardless  of  the  fact  that  variety  is  the  spice 
of  life  -. — •  and  of  concert-giving.  One  must  remember 


PROGRAM  MAKING  349 

that  while  such  a  program  is  made  up  of  a  patchwork  of 
pieces,  it  must,  after  all,  have  an  artistic  design  and  not 
resemble  a  crazy-quilt. 

The  encores  to  each  group  of  songs  should  be  very 
carefully  considered  and  should  be  not  only  familiar  but 
of  the  same  period  as  the  group  itself  and,  if  possible, 
shorter  than  the  encored  song,  in  order  that  the  balance 
shall  not  be  destroyed. 

I  cannot  too  strongly  insist  upon  the  recognition  of 
the  gender  of  songs;  some  are  masculine  and  some  are 
feminine,  and  the  opposite  sexes  should  not  encroach 
upon  each  other's  preserves.  Many  women  in  this  way 
offend  the  artistic  proprieties;  their  plea  that  all  the  best 
songs  are  written  for  men  is  not  well  founded,  for  a  little 
investigation  will  serve  to  show  our  sisters  that  there  is 
a  wealth  of  womanly  material  open  to  them  if  they  will 
but  depart  from  the  beaten  paths.  Nothing,  for  in 
stance,  could  be  more  beautifully  feminine,  or  more 
femininely  beautiful,  than  Schumann's  little-used  cycle 
of  eight  songs  known  as  "  Woman's  Love  and  Life  " 
(Frauenliebe  und  Leben).  Women  will  also  often  find 
melodic  ground  that  is  open  to  their  brethren  as  well  as 
to  themselves,  for  there  is  plenty  of  vocal  material  of  a 
poetic  character  suitable  for  both  male  and  female 
artists;  it  only  needs  to  be  gathered  and  used.  Women 
are  not  the  sole  offenders  in  the  mal-selection  of  songs: 
I  recently  attended  a  recital  where  an  experienced  man 
sang  during  the  course  of  the  afternoon  five  songs  that 
were  suitable  only  for  a  woman  to  render. 

I  append  two  programs  in  which  I  have  endeavored  to 
embody  my  ideas  of  how  such  song  offerings  can  advan 
tageously  be  made. 


350       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 
PROGRAMS 


MEN'S  GROUP 

O,  Ruddier  than  the  Cherry Handel 

("  Acis  and  Galatea  ") 

The    Frost   Scene    Pur  cell 

("  King  Arthur  ") 

At  Last  the  Bounteous  Sun   Haydn 

("The    Seasons") 

Now  Your  Days  of  Philandering. Mozart 
("  Marriage   of   Figaro  ") 


Creation's    Hymn    Beethoven 

(Gellert) 

The  Wanderer    Schubert 

(Ltibeck) 

The  Hidalgo Schumann 

(Geibel) 

May  Night   Brahms 

(Holty) 

Edward    Loewe 

(Scotch  Ballad) 


,  Verdi 


When  I  Was  Page    

<"  Falstaff  ") 
At   Evening's    Hour    Hahn 

(Verlaine) 
Autumnal  Gale    Grieg 

(Richardt) 

Secrecy   Wolff 

(Morike) 
The  Stonebreaker's  Song   Strauss 

(Henkell) 


The  Sea MacDowell 

(Howells) 

O,  Let  Night  Speak  of  Me   . .  Chadwick 
(Bates) 

The  Pirate  Song   Gilbert 

(Stevenson) 

Sleep,  then,  Ah  Sleep Branscombe 

(Le  Gallienne) 

Danny  Deever Damrosch 

(Kipling) 


WOMEN'S  GROUP 

My  Heart  Ever  Faithful    Bach 

(Pentecost  Cantata) 

To    Florindo     Scarlatti 

Should  He   Upbraid    Bishop 

(Shakespeare) 

I've    Peen    Roaming .  Morn 

(Soane) 


Marguerite    at    the    Spinning 

Wheel    Schubert 

(Goethe) 

He,  the  Best  of  All   Schumann 

(Chainisso) 

Dreams    Wagner 

(Wagner) 

In    Autumn     Franz 

(Miiller) 

Lov'st  Thou  for  Beauty .  Clara  Schumann 
(Riickert) 


He   Is   Kind    Massenet 

("  Herodiade  ") 

Noblest  of  Knights  Meyerbeer 

("  Les  Huguenots  ") 

Oh,    My   Lyre    Gounod 

("  Sappho  ") 

It  Is  Better  to  Laugh Donizetti 

("  Lucrezia   Borgia  ") 


Orpheus  with   His  Lute    Sullivan 

(Shakespeare) 

The  Blackbird's   Song   C.  Scott 

(Watson) 

The  Maidens  of  Cadiz    Delibes 

(De  Musset) 

The    Little   Silver    Ring    Chaminade 

(Baker) 

The  Floods  of  Spring Rachmaninoff 

(Hapgood) 


Of  these  programs  the  first  is  one  I  have  repeatedly 
rendered  since  its  original  presentation  at  Carnegie  Hall. 
In  it,  as  well  as  in  the  specimen  woman's  program,  it  will 


PROGRAM  MAKING  35 1 

be  observed  that  in  the  selection  of  the  numbers  I  have 
not  been  unmindful  of  the  source  of  the  words;  fine 
poetry  is  the  inspiration  of  fine  music,  and  it  is  my  in 
variable  custom  to  give  the  poet  equal  credit  with  the 
composer. 

The  art  of  presenting  such  a  song  recital  is  much  more 
difficult  than  either  oratorio  or  opera  singing,  for  the 
reason  that  the  recitalist,  unaided  by  scenery,  costume,  or 
the  opportunity  of  indulging  himself  in  action,  must  rely 
entirely  upon  his  vocal  and  expressive  powers.  Its 
preparation  and  presentation  is  as  serious  a  thing  as  the 
painting  and  exhibition  of  a  picture;  indeed  such  a  col 
lection  of  songs  is  a  tone  picture:  it  must  be  alive  with 
color  and  must  have  its  principal  and  subsidiary  features; 
it  must  have  incident,  must  have  sunshine  and  shadow, 
mirth  and  pathos,  comedy  and  tragedy,  all  mingled  with 
that  inevitable  concomitant  of  song,  love  —  plenty  of 
love;  for  poetry  and  music  go  hand  in  hand  with  the 
emotions,  and  it  is  this  association,  this  touch  of  nature, 
that  makes  the  whole  world  kin. 

It  is  my  custom  to  keep  everything  that  pertains  to  my 
professional  life,  and  the  collection  thus  gathered  to 
gether  makes  many  volumes.  Besides  these,  a  book  has 
been  kept  in  which  all  my  engagements  with  their  dates, 
places,  and  the  work  performed  has  been  entered  and 
forms  what  is,  to  me  at  least,  an  interesting  and  valuable 
addition  to  my  musical  library. 

An  inspection  of  this  record  shows  that  my  public 
doings  began  principally  with  plays,  and  of  these  I  have 
at  one  time  or  another  acted  in  twenty-five,  while  of  reci 
tations  to  music  I  have  for  years  used  a  repertory  of  as 
many  more.  My  character  impersonations  in  -opera  of 
all  sorts  —  light,  comic,  and  grand  —  number  fifty-eight; 


352       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

while  of  oratorios,  cantatas,  masses  and  services,  madri 
gals  and  part-songs  the  list  accounts  for  some  two  hun 
dred.  Adding  to  these  figures  the  fourteen  hundred 
songs  to  which  I  have  alluded,  the  summary  amounts  to 
the  not  inconsiderable  total  of  over  seventeen  hundred 
titles  and  brings  home  the  truth  of  Shakespeare's  asser 
tion  that  "  One  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts." 


CHAPTER  XL 

IN   REDWOOD    FORESTS 

Eftsoons  they  heard  a  most  melodious  sound, 

Of  all  that  might  delight  a  dainty  ear, 
Such  as  at  once  might  not  on  living  ground, 

Save  in  this  paradise,  be  heard  elsewhere. 

—  Spenser. 

ONE  of  my  most  interesting  experiences  was  the  per 
formance  in  1910  of  the  title  role  in  "  The  Cave  Man  " 
for  the  Bohemian  Club  of  San  Francisco  at  its  annual 
revel  in  the  great  redwood  grove  in  Sonoma  County, 
California.  The  text  was  by  Charles  K.  Field,  editor 
of  the  Sunset  Magazine,  and  the  music  by  William  J. 
McCoy,  whose  music  drama  "  The  Hamadryads  "  had 
brought  him  so  much  praise  a  few  years  previously. 
When  I  had  been  at  the  club  not  long  before,  I  prom 
ised  to  go  with  them  to  The  Grove,  among  the  hills 
about  seventy-five  miles  north  of  the  city,  where  the 
members  sojourn  every  August.  To  end  the  outing 
among  the  giant  sequoias,  plays  are  given  which  have 
been  a  year  in  preparation,  and  these  have  grown  so 
famous  and  have  developed  so  steadily  in  high  purpose 
that  I  was  highly  complimented  at  being  asked  to  play 
the  principal  part  in  the  one  forthcoming.  Every  re 
source  of  modern  art  and  stagecraft  is  brought  to  bear 
upon  them,  written,  composed,  acted,  and  sung  as  they 
are  by  members  of  the  Bohemian  Club. 

"  The  Cave  Man "  took  its  inspiration  from  these 
sequoia  groves  of  California,  as  the  only  existing  for- 

353 


354       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

ests  resembling  those  of  the  cave  man's  day.  Like  its 
predecessors,  the  play  was  given  on  a  natural  stage  along 
the  majestic  hillside,  the  proscenium  arch  being  furnished 
by  nature  in  the  form  of  two  trees  fifteen  feet  in  diameter 
and  200  or  more  in  height.  A  fine  symphony  orchestra 
furnished  the  accompaniment  out  of  sight  of  the  audience, 
which  is  seated  on  felled  logs  in  an  auditorium  unequaled 
in  the  world,  formed  by  an  irregular  circle  of  giant  trees. 

I  left  Bar  Harbor,  Maine,  for  California  in  July  for 
this  single  performance.  Arriving  at  the  Grove  late  in 
the  afternoon,  I  went  eagerly  to  the  hillside  where  I  was 
to  act.  Feeling  very  small  amongst  the  monster  trees,  I 
shouted  to  the  author  and  the  composer  of  the  play 
far  down  in  the  auditorium,  "  Can  you  hear  me?  "  One 
of  my  friends  asked  almost  in  a  whisper,  u  Charley,  can 
you  hear  David?  "  Every  syllable  came  to  my  ear. 
So  mysteriously  perfect  are  the  acoustics  among  the  trees 
that  even  the  slightest  sound  is  audible. 

After  careful  rehearsal  "  The  Cave  Man  "  was  splen 
didly  enacted  by  the  Honorable  Henry  A.  Melvin,  Jus 
tice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  California,  the  gifted  Rich 
ard  Hotaling  and  many  another  clever  singer  and  actor  in 
the  cast  with  me,  and  I  reveled  in  a  part  of  great  orig 
inality  and  power. 

The  Grove  Plays  are  given  at  night,  the  hillside  be 
ing  illuminated  in  any  manner  required  from  behind  the 
great  tree  trunks.  "  The  Cave  Man  "  was  thus  enabled 
to  pass  from  dawn  through  the  blaze  of  noon  to  the  ap 
proach  of  night,  when  from  the  spark  struck  by  the  flint 
a  forest  fire  was  kindled,  to  be  quenched  by  torrents  of 
rain  in  a  terrific  storm.  Though  at  the  time  these  plays 
are  given  no  rain  has  been  known  to  fall  in  that  part  of 
California,  so  realistic  was  the  forest  fire  that  men  in  the 


IN  REDWOOD  FORESTS  355 

audience  started  to  their  feet  to  prevent  the  destruction 
of  their  beloved  grove,  until  the  rainstorm  poured  down 
from  perforated  pipes  high  in  the  surrounding  trees. 

My  work  ending  with  the  second  act,  I  was  able  to  see 
the  epilogue  from  the  audience  —  as  remarkable  a  com 
bination  of  stagecraft  and  music  as  I  have  ever  known. 

The  forest  is  dark,  not  a  light  is  to  be  seen,  spiritual 
voices  sound: 

"  What  shall  awaken  man 
Breaking  the  dream  of  the  senses?" 

A  star  glows  in  the  darkness  and  the  voice  of  an  arch 
angel  speaks  from  the  sky  in  answer: 

"  Behold  he  shall  climb 
Up  the  hard  path  of  the  ages  — 
Into  the  glory  of  mind !  " 

And  cave  men  are  dimly  seen  climbing  upward  until 
they  are  replaced  by  shepherds  climbing  still  upward  in 
shadow,  singing  as  they  go.  As  the  shepherds  reach  a 
higher  level  they  are  replaced  by  farmers  who  climb  in 
turn  up  the  hill  in  a  stronger  light,  and  farmers  are  re 
placed  in  turn  by  warriors  with  helmets  and  shield.  The 
warriors  are  succeeded  upon  a  higher  level  still  by  white- 
robed  philosophers  climbing  in  a  light  which  is  growing 
ever  stronger.  The  hillside  is  thronged  with  the  pro 
cessional  of  the  ages,  the  chorus  of  voices  singing  in  ever 
heightening  rhapsody,  which  is  increased  by  the  spiritual 
voices  of  boys  from  a  distance,  singing: 

"  Man  awaketh  from  the  dream  of  the  senses ; 
Time  falleth  from  him  like  a  shadow; 
Glory  clotheth  him  for  evermore!" 


356       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

Then  He  who  spoke  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  sud 
denly  appears  upon  the  height  of  the  hill  above  the  gath 
ered  multitude.  A  splendor  of  light  bursts  upon  the 
forest  and  a  cloud  of  white  doves  hovers  above  the  climb 
ing  host,  all  singing,  "  Hosanna !  Behold  it  is  the  sun !  " 
as  the  procession  is  led  upward  into  the  light. 

While  on  the  way  to  the  Pacific  Coast  I  stopped  to 
wonder  at  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado  River. 
Consumed  with  curiosity  to  adventure  to  the  bottom  of 
this  mile-deep  gash  upon  the  fair  face  of  the  world,  I 
started  on  horseback  down  the  narrow  trail  with  a  com 
panion  and  three  guides.  I  am  no  horseman,  for  my 
legs  are  not  long  enough  to  go  around  the  belly  of  any 
well-proportioned  nag  so  as  to  enable  me  to  stick  on  his 
back.  As  we  proceeded  my  mount  evinced  a  desire  to 
gather  tufts  of  grass  which  grew  where  flies  would 
scarcely  dare  to  crawl  under  the  edge  of  a  precipice 
2000  feet  in  height.  My  heart  sank  into  my  boots  and, 
as  I  shouted  to  my  guides  the  order  to  return,  my  horse 
in  putting  about  upon  the  narrow  path  kicked  a  hundred 
weight  of  stone  into  the  abyss.  I  dismounted,  thankful 
not  to  be  following  it  to  the  premature  end  of  my  tour. 

Within  a  few  days,  I  contributed  to  the  holiday  jinks 
of  the  Bohemian  Club  an  offering  of  my  own,  which  came 
as  a  little  inspiration  and  afforded  me  great  pleasure, 
as  it  worked  out  with  such  success.  Unknown  to  my 
fellow  members  I  had  a  costumer  build  three  suits  of 
clothes  one  over  the  other  upon  me.  These  were  readily 
detachable  and  gave  me  three  changes  at  one  appearance. 
When  the  curtain  rose,  the  audience  found  a  pirate  at  his 
cabin  table,  his  bottle  of  rum  beside  him,  singing  Steven 
son's  lines,  "  Fifteen  men  on  a  dead  man's  chest,"  while 
green  lights  from  the  sea  played  upon  him  through  an 


IN  REDWOOD  FORESTS  357 

open  porthole.  The  applause  from  the  audience  had 
scarcely  died  away,  when  the  curtain  rose  again  upon 
Mrs.  Howard  Weeden's  familiar  figure  of  Uncle  Rome, 
the  dear  old  darky,  who  visits  the  beloved  home  of  the 
master  of  his  youth  in  the  sunset  glow  of  the  evening  of 
his  life.  My  assistants  rapidly  relieved  me  of  the  cos 
tume  and  black  stockinette  mask  of  the  old  servitor  and, 
in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  I  stepped  forward 
in  the  costume  of  Tommy  Atkins  to  sing  the  perennial 
"  Danny  Deever." 

Continuing  my  journey  I  found  myself  caught  in  a 
snowdrift  near  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River  on 
the  way  to  concertize  in  Canada,  and  my  train  was  de 
tained  for  twenty-four  hours.  Fortunately  I  was  near 
a  station,  from  which  I  telegraphed  to  Vancouver,  where 
I  was  due  for  rehearsal  a  full  day  before  the  perform 
ance,  and  was  greatly  complimented  to  learn  over  the 
wire  that  the  concert  had  been  postponed  a  day  to  allow 
me  time  to  get  there.  This  I  did  without  further  mis 
hap,  and  chorus,  orchestra,  and  audience  returned  to  the 
hall,  from  which  they  had  been  sent  away  the  night 
before,  to  hear  me  in  a  performance  of  "  Elijah,"  which, 
spurred  on  by  gratitude  for  such  consideration,  I  felt  that 
I  had  never  sung  so  well. 

Artists,  however,  are  not  always  in  a  position  to  know 
what  effect  they  are  creating  upon  their  hearers.  My 
kinsman,  William  Bispham,  told  me  that  he  once  visited 
Edwin  Booth  in  his  dressing  room  during  a  performance 
of  "  Hamlet  "  to  congratulate  him  upon  his  interpreta 
tion,  in  which  he  seemed  that  night  to  attain  the  pinnacle 
of  his  powers.  To  his  surprise  he  found  Booth  with  his 
head  upon  his  hands  in  the  deepest  dejection,  from  which 
not  even  the  praise  of  his  old  friend  could  arouse  him,  de- 


358       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

daring  himself  disgusted  at  having  given  so  miserable 
a  performance.  'But  later  when  -Booth  seemed  to  my 
cousin  and  other  intimates  to  be  in  danger  of  losing  his 
reputation,  and  they  went  behind  to  beg  him  to  pull  him 
self  together,  to  their  amazement  they  found  him  in  the 
best  of  spirits,  frame  erect,  glorious  eyes  flashing,  and 
a  smile  upon  his  lips.  As  they  remonstrated  with  him, 
his  countenance  changed  and,  in  high  displeasure  at  the 
liberty  taken  with  him,  he  dismissed  them  from  the  room 
lest  they  interfere  with  what  he  thought  the  best  per 
formance  he  had  ever  given  in  his  life. 

Singing  early  in  1911  with  the  New  York  Philhar 
monic  under  Mahler  and  with  the  Boston  Symphony  Or 
chestra  under  Gericke,  I  appeared  with  the  Philadelphia 
Orchestra  under  Carl  Pohlig,  with  whom  I  had  passed 
certain  Wagnerian  roles  at  Bayreuth,  when  under  con 
sideration  by  Seidl,  Richter,  and  Madame  Wagner  for 
engagement  there,  which  unfortunately  came  to  nothing 
because  of  the  prior  claims  of  other  artists. 

Besides  opening  the  concert  room  of  the  new  Brooklyn 
Academy  of  Music,  I  introduced  at  Carnegie  Hall,  on 
May  21,  1911,  the  retiring  lad  afterward  known  to  fame 
as  Leo  Ornstein;  and  kept  my  brain  fresh  by  producing 
during  1911  three  noble  Tennysonian  poems,  "Elaine," 
with  beautiful  music  by  Ada  Weigel  Powers;  "Guine 
vere  "  to  the  touching  accompaniment  by  the  pianist 
Heniot  Levy,  and  "  A  Dream  of  Fair  Women  "  to  or 
chestral  music  of  great  variety  and  ingenuity  by  Doctor 
N.  J.  Elsenheimer.  And  that  summer,  in  further  en 
thusiasm  for  the  spoken  work  and  for  drama,  produced 
the  strong  one-act  play  in  blank  verse  by  Oscar  Wilde, 
called  "  A  Florentine  Tragedy."  This  had  never 
hitherto  been  given  in  its  entirety  in  the  United  States, 


IN  REDWOOD  FORESTS  359 

and  I  heartily  recommend  it  to  the  attention  of  actors. 

After  much  more  music-making  in  the  course  of  my 
daily  walk  and  conversation,  I  had  the  opportunity  of 
introducing  to  the  public  such  pieces  as  Stanford's  fine 
settings  for  barytone  voice  and  chorus  of  Henry  New- 
bolt's  "  Songs  of  the  Sea,"  Frederic  Converse's  setting 
of  Keats's  poem  "  La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci  "  and  Par 
ker's  "  Cahal  Mor,"  and  Howard  Brockway's  "  Agha- 
doe  ";  and  ere  long  found  myself  singing  in  concert  with 
my  old  friend  and  colleague  of  the  opera,  Madame  Lillian 
Nordica.  Her  second  marriage  had  taken  place  after 
great  trouble  with  her  former  husband.  While  settling 
with  her  spouse,  she  was  about  to  give  one  of  her  concerts 
in  New  York,  when  one  day  she  answered  a  telephone  call 
and  to  her  amazement  heard  his  voice  bidding  her  good 
morning  and  asking  for  a  box  at  her  performance  the 
next  afternoon.  Though  alarmed  she  promised  him  the 
box;  but,  as  he  had  threatened  her  life,  her  manager 
set  detectives  in  the  boxes  on  either  side  of  his,  and  at 
the  door  of  it  as  well.  When  she  told  me  the  story  I 
fully  sympathized  with  her  breathlessness  during  the 
opening  numbers  of  her  recital.  It  is  not  easy  to  sing 
while  looking  down  a  pistol  barrel. 

Madame  Nordica  was  determined  and  brave,  living 
up  to  her  undertakings  in  spite  of  everything,  and  on 
her  last  tour  of  the  United  States  was  so  ill,  during  sev 
eral  concerts  we  gave  jointly,  that  she  could  hardly  reach 
the  concert  room.  An  extemporized  and  comfortable 
retreat  was  arranged  for  her  behind  the  scenes,  for  dress 
ing  rooms  are  proverbially  dirty  in  most  theatres.  The 
poor  lady  could  scarcely  struggle  to  her  feet,  but  once 
up  she  went  on  unflinchingly  behind  the  disguise  of  rouge, 
beautiful  gowns,  and  jewels  to  sing  to  audiences  that 


360       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

adored  her,  doing  her  best  in  selections  suited  to  her 
waning  vocal  powers.  Coming  off  she  sank  into  her  easy 
chair,  almost  crying  with  pain,  but  when  the  audience 
thundered  in  delight  she  said  to  me,  "  My  favorite  tree 
has  always  been  tre-mendous  applause.  Listen  to  that! 
I  must  go  and  sing  to  them  again ;  that  is  worth  any  suf 
fering!  "  Once  she  added,  "  Do  you  think  now  I  am 
getting  old  I  should  be  doing  this  if  I  didn't  have  to  ?  " 

When  in  San  Francisco  at  Christmas  time  in  1911,  I 
was  asked  by  Joseph  D.  Redding,  lawyer,  orator,  wit, 
writer,  man  of  the  world,  and  the  leading  spirit  of  the 
Bohemian  Club,  to  perform  again,  this  time  in  the  Grove 
Play  he  had  just  written,  entitled  "  The  Atonement  of 
Pan,"  and  founded  on  an  ancient  myth.  Henry  Hadley 
was  chosen  as  the  composer  of  the  music.  Accordingly  I 
found  myself  the  next  summer  among  the  redwoods  busily 
rehearsing  what,  upon  its  performance  on  the  evening  of 
August  10,  1912,  proved  to  be  the  most  successful  play 
of  them  all. 

The  prologue  was  seriously  considered  by  Hadley, 
Redding,  and  myself,  with  special  attention  to  my  predi 
lection  for  the  spoken  word  accompanied  by  music.  The 
pipes  of  Pan  have  been  heard  in  the  distance  and  the  fa 
miliar  figure  of  the  god  has  been  seen  coming  down  the 
hill,  when  suddenly  he  appears  and  renders  the  prologue, 
which  for  effectiveness  has  seldom  been  equaled.  The 
blank  verse  delivered  in  speech  is  ere  long  set  off  by 
music,  into  which  the  voice  presently  glides  in  song,  end 
ing  with  a  beautiful  apostrophe  to  the  noble  trees  of  the 
forest.  My  costume  had  been  devised  with  great  care, 
my  head  and  face  made  up  after  that  of  the  statue  of 
Pan  in  the  museum  at  Naples,  which  I  have  always 
greatly  admired.  The  story  proceeds  through  the  atone- 


IN  REDWOOD  FORESTS  361 

ment  of  Pan  for  the  sins  he  is  supposed  to  have  commit 
ted  and  for  which  the  gods  had  malformed  him  in  punish 
ment;  he  is  allowed  to  resume  his  former  shape,  and  all 
ends  happily  in  a  burst  of  choral  music.  What  a 
pity  these  splendid  works  cannot  be  heard  by  the  general 
public ! 

The  evening  after  we  were  watching  a  travesty  on  the 
play  amusingly  and  cleverly  performed,  and  I  had 
laughed  heartily  at  the  burlesque  upon  myself,  but  as  I 
started  in  the  darkness  toward  the  camp  of  my  host, 
Mr.  Redding,  my  foot  slipped  on  a  bit  of  rock  along  the 
hillside,  turned  under  me,  and  I  fell,  breaking  my  ankle. 
A  repetition  of  the  play  had  been  decided  upon  for  the 
delectation  of  the  ladies  within  a  fortnight.  The  author, 
the  composer,  and  the  club  committee  were  in  despair, 
but  not  so  I,  and  I  promised  that,  come  what  would  of  it, 
I  would  appear.  The  part  had  been  written  for  me,  was 
of  great  length  and  difficulty,  with  no  one  at  hand  who 
could  learn  it  in  time.  A  medical  member  of  the  club 
attended  to  me  that  night  and  took  me  to  a  hospital  in 
town  the  next  day.  I  was  commanded  to  keep  quiet,  but 
with  me  that  is  easier  said  than  done.  I  was  to  open  a 
series  of  concerts  at  Berkeley  in  ten  days,  and  this  I  did  on 
crutches,  apologizing  to  my  audience  when  my  attendant 
took  them  away  and  left  me  alone  by  the  piano,  and 
thanking  my  lucky  stars  it  was  my  ankle  that  was  broken 
and  not  my  neck. 

At  my  insistence  a  surgical  instrument  maker  devised 
a  wide  but  softly  padded  strap  of  heavy  leather  strongly 
fixed  below  my  knee,  upon  which  he  adjusted  two  steel 
bands  outside  the  plaster  cast  around  my  leg  and  ankle 
and  fastened  them  to  a  metal  sole  an  inch  under  my  foot. 
Dreadfully  uncomfortable  as  I  was,  I  was  thus  enabled 


362       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

to  repeat  Pan,  upheld  by  a  rustic  staff  which  was  in  full 
keeping  with  the  character.  A  few  changes  in  stage 
management  saved  me  from  moving  much  during  the 
performance,  which  I  went  through  without  any  one  of 
the  audience  being  the  wiser.  I  returned  that  night  by 
special  train  with  the  others  to  San  Francisco,  leaving  by 
the  Overland  Express  in  the  morning  for  Halifax,  Nova 
Scotia,  where  on  the  evening  of  my  arrival  I  began  a 
Canadian  tour  which  had  been  arranged  months  before. 

I  had  an  attendant  and  was  made  as  comfortable  as 
possible  on  this  arduous  journey,  during  which  I  sang 
nearly  every  night  of  the  week.  Luckily  my  concerts 
were  given  in  theatres,  enabling  me  to  hobble  on  the 
stage  and  have  all  signs  of  my  injury  removed  before  the 
curtain  rose.  I  was  then  discovered  standing  comfort 
ably  in  the  bend  of  the  grand  piano,  at  which  sat  my 
accompanist  ready  to  proceed.  Not  until  the  concert  was 
half  over  and  Harry  Gilbert,  my  pianist,  had  to  play  his 
solo,  did  the  audience  learn  that  anything  was  wrong 
with  me,  for  I  could  not  leave  the  stage.  After  an  ex 
planation  I  remained  on  the  platform  seated  in  an  arm 
chair,  rising  from  it  to  sing  when  my  turn  came  again. 
I  merely  mention  this  by  way  of  insistence  upon  the  duty 
that  every  artist  owes  the  public;  from  it  no  performer 
should  ask  or  expect  sympathy;  but  pluck  it  does  admire. 

It  was  this  tour  which  led  me  in  and  out  of  the  Middle 
West,  into  the  Southern  States  as  far  as  Florida,  around 
the  Pacific  Coast  again,  until  the  journey  drawn  upon  the 
map  looks  as  if  Puck  himself  had  been  after  us  and  cry 
ing: 

"  Up  and  down,  up  and  down, 
I  will  lead  them  up  and  down," 


IN  REDWOOD  FORESTS  363 

I  ha-d  often  wondered  what  could  be  the  mileage  of  some 
of  my  journeys, -and  found  that  in  1905  I  traveled  23,000 
miles.  A  few  years  later,  in  a  little  over  twelve  months, 
I  covered  34,000  miles,  and  from  the  summer  of  1912 
to  the  autumn  of  1913,  upon  my  return  from  Australia, 
I  attained  the  enormous  total  of  50,000  miles,  equal  to  at 
least  twice  around  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

DIVERSE    INTERESTS 

There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men 

Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune; 

Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 

Is  bound  in  shallows  and  in  miseries, 

On  such  a  full  sea  are  we  now  afloat, 

And  we  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves, 

Or  lose  our  ventures. —  Shakespeare. 

IT  had  become  known  in  theatrical  circles  that  it  was 
my  wish  to  continue  upon  the  stage,  and  a  play  with 
music  was  being  sought  to  fit  my  personality.  One  was 
so  strongly  recommended  by  Madame  Schumann-Heink, 
who  knew  of  its  success  in  Europe,  that  I  eventually  ac 
cepted  it  and  signed  with  a  theatrical  producing  firm  to 
appear  in  it  in  New  York  in  the  latter  part  of  1913. 
Coincidently  I  was  negotiating  for  a  concert  tour  in 
Australia,  whence  I  was  to  return  to  enter  upon  the  re 
hearsals  for  the  musical  play.  At  the  same  time,  also, 
I  received  the  third  of  a  series  of  offers  for  a  vaudeville 
engagement  which,  as  theretofore,  I  declined,  giving  as 
the  reason  my  previously  arranged  plans.  After  a  long 
tour  of  America  I  sailed  for  Sydney,  via  San  Francisco, 
where  at  the  Bohemian  Club  a  farewell  supper  was  given 
me  —  a  masterpiece  of  ingenuity  and  fun  concocted  by 
my  associates  of  several  years  in  grove  plays  and  High 
Jinks,  this  being  as  high  an  example  of  the  genus  jink  as 
could  well  be  imagined. 

In  great  fettle  I  journeyed  to  heavenly  Honolulu, 
where  before  proceeding  southward  down  the  vasty  deep, 

364 


DIVERSE  INTERESTS  365 

I  sang  to  the  portion  of  the  population  that  holds  the 
Islands  to  the  United  States.  And  then  on  around  the 
curve  of  the  world  to  the  great  continent  below  our  feet 
which  almost  equals  in  extent  the  part  of  North  America 
occupied  by  the  United  States,  but  whose  total  popula 
tion  is  less  than  that  of  the  City  of  New  York.  Once 
there,  I  was  treated  with  the  greatest  courtesy  and  en 
thusiasm,  but  happened  to  arrive  during  the  rainiest  of 
all  rainy  seasons,  and  to  encounter  as  well  an  epidemic  of 
smallpox,  which  sadly  interfered  with  my  tour.  After 
many  appearances  in  Sydney,  Melbourne,  Adelaide,  and 
other  places,  which  demonstrated  to  my  satisfaction  the 
kindness  of  the  Australians,  than  whom,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  no  more  musical  people  exist,  I  pushed 
through  to  the  end,  Madame  Nordica  following  me  on 
the  list  of  artists  that  was  to  have  toured  the  antipodean 
land.  My  experiences  and  hers  which  ended  in  her  ship 
wreck  and  death  as  she  sailed  to  India,  deterred  the  rest 
of  our  associates  from  following  us  so  far  afield. 

Just  before  I  boarded  the  steamer  I  spent  an  hour  with 
my  beloved  companion  of  so  many  operas.  She  had  sung 
the  evening  before,  and,  though  I  was  unable  to  hear  her, 
I  observed  that  the  papers  treated  her  with  the  greatest 
consideration,  realizing  what  a  famous  woman  was  in 
their  midst. 

Just  as  I  was  to  sail  I  received  another  letter  from  my 
insistent  vaudeville  promoter,  to  say  that  it  was  rumored 
that  a  combination  of  untoward  happenings  in  America 
was  about  to  result  in  the  failure  of  the  firm  with 
which  I  had  contracted  for  opera,  and  again  vaudeville 
was  suggested  to  me,  with  a  figure  named,  by  way  of  bait, 
that  would  tempt  the  veriest  anchorite  of  them  all. 
Though  never  sharing  the  prejudices  of  some  of  my  col- 


366       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

leagues  against  vaudeville,  then  evidently  rising  to  the 
status  of  a  fine  art  and  enlisting  many  actors  and  mu 
sicians  of  distinction,  yet  I  had  held  out  because  I  feared 
that  a  lowering  of  my  standards  might  be  demanded  of 
me.  I  thought  the  matter  over  and  sent  a  cable  to  my 
lawyer  in  New  York  asking  about  the  misfortunes  of  my 
managers-to-be,  and  at  San  Francisco  I  found  an  answer 
which  decided  me  at  once.  Taking  the  first  train  east 
I  substantiated  the  information,  and  in  one  week  was 
off  under  the  most  valuable  contract  I  had  ever  signed, 
and  under  conditions  entirely  satisfactory.  I  found  my 
self  treated  like  a  prince  and  given  every  chance  to  sing 
to  the  public  the  very  best  in  my  repertory. 

It  is  always  a  mistake  to  play  down  to  anybody. 
Mediocrity  attracts  mediocrity.  My  belief  is  now,  as  it 
was  in  the  beginning,  that  the  artist  with  courage  to  sing, 
or  play  or  act,  the  finest  things  he  knows,  will  more 
quickly  gain  the  ear  of  the  public  and  more  lastingly  re 
tain  its  respect.  While  the  quality  of  one's  performances 
should  be  like  the  quality  of  mercy,  not  strained,  one's 
auditors  are  glad  of  a  message  that  they  can  recognize 
as  being  higher  than  what  they  expected,  and  thankful 
to  the  messenger  for  providing  them  with  loftier  ideals. 
They  come  to  be  amused,  they  go  away  interested;  and 
if  they  are  both  amused  and  interested,  so  much  the 
better. 

I  changed  my  offerings  every  day,  sometimes  both 
afternoon  and  evening,  and  amply  verified  my  faith  that 
the  classics  of  song  do  not  bore  people.  My  repertory 
comprised  nearly  a  hundred  selections  during  the  course 
of  about  a  year  that  I  appeared  in  vaudeville,  a  year  that 
I  look  back  upon  with  interest  and  pleasure. 


DIVERSE  INTERESTS  367 

The  spring  of  1916  brought  with  it  opportunities  to 
appear  in  many  of  the  Shakespearean  celebrations  in 
honor  of  the  3OOth  anniversary  of  the  great  dramatist's 
death,  my  contributions  being  Shakespearean  songs  and 
my  reading  of  "  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream." 
Among  the  more  noted  events  of  the  year  was  the  re 
markable  testimonial  given  by  the  actors  of  New  York 
and  visiting  histrions  on  March  14  to  William  Winter, 
so  long  associated  with  the  New  York  Tribune  as  dra 
matic  critic.  I  also  helped  my  friend  Beerbohm  Tree 
•on  a  Shakespeare  Day  at  the  New  Amsterdam  Theatre 
where  he  was  ending  his  American  engagement,  while 
Tree  and  I,  with  Alfred  Noyes,  the  poet,  assisted  shortly 
after  at  a  similar  occasion  at  the  Academy  of  Music  in 
Philadelphia. 

Here  let  me  pause  to  pay  tribute,  not  too  long  deferred, 
I  hope,  to  the  American  musical  amateur.  The  word  it 
self  is  one  which  in  professional  circles  is  looked  down 
upon,  as  if  it  involved  an  inferior  status.  I  hold,  on  the 
contrary,  that  the  professional  who  enters  upon  work 
before  the  public  with  the  sole  idea  of  making  money, 
and  who  learns  and  performs  only  what  he  is  compelled 
to  learn  and  perform,  is  often  more  ignorant  of  his  art 
than  he  who  for  the  love  of  it  —  and  that  is  what  the 
word  amateur  means  —  applies  himself  to  music  without 
the  hope  of  personal  gain,  his  ideals  being  primarily 
artistic.  Indeed  the  mere  possession  of  a  voice  and  the 
ability  to  sing  songs  is  but  little,  unless  behind  that  there 
is  an  informing  spirit,  which  with  its  magic  touch  ir 
radiates  everything  that  an  artist  subsequently  does  be 
fore  the  public.  My  father  used  to  say,  entirely  apart 
from  my  musical  proclivities:  "  Even  a  cobbler,  if  he  is 


368       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

an  educated  cobbler,  will  make  a  better  pair  of  boots  be 
cause  of  his  education;  the  better  the  education  the  bet 
ter  the  boots.  A  man  should  love  his  work." 

That  old  associate  of  mine  in  opera,  Albert  Reiss, 
whose  Mime  has  never  been  equaled,  called  on  me  in 
the  summer  of  1916  to  lay  before  me  his  project  for 
the  revival  of  Mozart's  opera,  u  Der  Schauspiel  Di- 
rektor  "  (The  Impresario).  I  fell  in  with  Reiss's  plan. 
Henry  E.  Krehbiel,  music  editor  of  the  New  York  Trib 
une,  provided  a  new  English  libretto,  and  with  Sam 
Franko,  the  expert  in  old  music,  and  the  American 
soprano  Mabel  Garrison,  we  produced  "  The  Impre 
sario  "  at  the  Empire  Theatre,  New  York,  on  the  after 
noon  of  October  26,  1916.  It  was  preceded  by  Mozart's 
youthful  operetta  "  Bastien  and  Bastienne,"  with  a  de 
lightfully  naive  book  by  Alice  Mattullath. 

So  great  was  the  demand  for  a  repetition  of  those 
operas,  that  the  Society  of  American  Singers  was  incor 
porated  early  in  1917,  with  Albert  Reiss  as  president, 
myself  as  vice  president,  and  with  Herbert  Witherspoon 
and  George  Hamlin  on  the  board  of  directors.  In  ad 
dition  to  u  The  Impresario  "  and  u  Bastien  and  Bas 
tienne  "  a  repertory  of  opera  comique  in  English  with 
an  entirely  American  cast  was  given  for  a  short  season 
at  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  New  York,  beginning  Monday, 
May  7,  when,  again  for  the  'first  time  in  America,  was  per 
formed  a  double  bill,  consisting  of  Pergolesi's  delightful 
comedy  "  La  Serva  Padrona  "  (The  Maid  as  Mistress) 
and  Donizetti's  "II  Campanello  "  (The  Night  Bell). 
The  former  was  sung  to  the  English  adaptation  by  Sydney 
Rosenfeld,  with  myself  as  Doctor  Pandolfo,  and  that  ac 
complished  American  singer,  Miss  Florence  Easton,  as 
the  Maid.  These  comedies  again  set  a  pace  and  gave  the 


DIVERSE  INTERESTS  369 

season  a  send-off  of  a  classical  nature,  which  was  just 
what  was  needed  to  attract  the  attention  of  musical  con 
noisseurs.  In  that  attractive  bit  u  The  Night  Bell  "  Miss 
Lucy  Gates  was  the  bride,  Albert  Reiss  her  lover,  and  I 
was  the  Apothecary,  Don  Hannibal. 

Our  new  repertory  also  included,  for  the  first  time  in 
America,  Gounod's  comic  opera  in  three  acts,  u  The 
Mock  Doctor,"  founded  upon  Moliere's  satire,  "  Le 
Medicin  Malgre  Lui."  In  addition  to  these  novelties, 
the  American  Singers  revived  their  previous  success  of 
"  The  Impresario  "  and  "  Bastien  and  Bastienne."  Our 
stage  director  was  that  master,  Jacques  Coini,  who  had 
been  so  long  the  right-hand  man  of  Oscar  Hammerstein 
at  the  Manhattan  Opera  House,  while  our  musical 
conductors,  besides  Mr.  Franko,  were  Paul  Eisler  and 
Artur  Bodanzky,  conductor  in  chief  of  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House,  who  had  generously  offered  his  services  in 
recognition  of  the  artistic  importance  of  our  undertaking. 

During  the  progress  of  the  Great  War  our  activities 
were  suspended,  but  some  reconstruction  having  taken 
place,  we  opened  on  September  23,  1918,  under  the  pres 
idency  of  William  Wade  Hinshaw,  our  second  season  of 
opera  comique  at  the  Park  Theatre,  Columbus  Circle, 
New  York,  with  a  performance  of  Ambroise  Thomas's 
"  Mignon,"  in  which  the  accomplished  Scotch  soprano, 
Miss  Maggie  Teyte,  gave  a  touching  performance  of 
the  title  role.  The  following  evening  in  Donizetti's 
"  Daughter  of  the  Regiment,"  I  appeared  as  Sergeant 
Sulpice,  with  Bianca  Saroya  as  his  adopted  daughter. 
Our  repertory  was  further  increased  by  the  production  of 
"  Carmen  "  admirably  sung  by  Miss  Marguerita  Silva,  as 
sisted  by  Riccardo  Martin  as  Don  Jose.  While  these 
operas  were  being  sung  Puccini's  "  Madame  Butterfly  " 


370       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

was  being  prepared,  with  Henry  Hadley's  prize  opera 
"Bianca"  and  Offenbach's  "Tales  of  Hoffmann,"  in 
which  I  delighted  in  sinking  my  personality  in  the  char 
acter  part  of  the  Jew  peddler  Coppelius,  the  doll  being 
Ruth  Miller,  and  Orville  Harrold,  <as  admirable  as  she, 
as  Hoffmann  himself.  For  over  six  months  these  works, 
alternating  with  several  of  Gilbert  and  Sullivan's  master 
pieces,  and  other  operas  of  the  highly  artistic  sort  known 
as  opera  comique,  proceeded  successfully,  and  I  hope  will 
result  in  the  establishment  of  a  permanent  institution. 

My  doings  during  war  time  continued  to  be  varied 
almost  beyond  belief,  for  it  was  my  privilege  to  sing  for 
the  men  through  every  process  of  recruiting  when,  be 
fore  huge  gatherings  indoors  and  out,  I  and  my  associ 
ates  in  the  dramatic  and  musical  professions  did  our  bits. 
It  was  all  I  was  able  to  do,  to  hearten  the  younger  gen 
eration  for  the  tremendous  task  before  it,  but  I  feel  sure 
that  the  value  of  music  has  been  greatly  enhanced  in 
public  opinion  by  the  recognition  of  its  power  to  heighten 
morale  as  well  as  of  its  ability  to  incite  to  great  deeds. 
The  roll  of  the  drums,  the  blare  of  the  trumpets,  the 
skirl  of  the  bagpipe,  and  the  song  of  the  marching  men 
have  always  had  their  place,  but  the  song  of  the  in 
dividual  heard  by  thousands,  as  I  have  been  heard,  is  as 
refreshing  to  them  as  their  answering  song  to  me  when 
by  way  of  thanks  the  boys  good-naturedly  trolled  out 
the  ditties  taught  them  by  their  leaders. 

During  this  time  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  young 
American  actor-manager,  Stuart  Walker,  to  present 
that  great  poem,  The  Book  of  Job,  upon  the  New  York 
stage,  using  Professor  Moulton's  version  as  the  basis 
of  his  adaptation,  and  accordingly  in  the  Booth  Theatre 
on  the  afternoon  of  March  7,  1918,  and  upon  other  oc- 


DIVERSE  INTERESTS  371 

casions  that  Lent,  this  superb  drama  was  reverently 
enacted.  The  mystery  of  suffering,  most  universal  of 
all  topics,  was  feelingly  declaimed  by  George  Gaul  as 
Job,  who  nobly  led  up  to  the  great  and  final  message  of 
patience,  faith,  and  triumph,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer 
liveth,"  while  Elihu  was  in  the  master  hand  of  Walter 
Hampden,  at  that  time  preparing  for  the  revival  of 
"  Hamlet,"  in  which  he  was  presently  so  successful  as 
to  gain  a  high  name  for  himself  in  the  annals  of  the 
American  stage.  The  Eternal  Voice  out  of  the  whirl 
wind  was  mine. 

Of  all  that  has  come  to  me  in  recognition  of  my  serv 
ices  to  art,  no  honor,  not  even  the  praise  of  kings,  has 
so  touched  me  as  a  letter  received  as  I  was  closing  my 
vaudeville  experience.  It  was  from  that  same  Isaac 
Sharpless  who,  as  a  professor  of  mathematics,  leniently 
enabled  me  in  final  examinations  to  take  the  degree  of 
B.  A.  at  Haverford  College,  of  which  he  had  at  last 
become  the  president.  In  it  he  informed  me  that  the 
directors  of  my  Alma  Mater  had  decided  to  confer  upon 
me  the  honorary  degree  of  LL.D.,  which  was  duly 
granted  me  on  Commencement  Day,  June  12,  1914. 
Academically  gowned,  capped,  and  hooded,  I  acknowl 
edged  my  sense  of  the  dignity  awarded  me  by  singing 
Schubert's  glorious  song,  "  Omnipotence,"  and  the  Pro 
logue  from  the  opera  "  I  Pagliacci,"  to  bring  home  to 
those  not  musically  or  dramatically  inclined  not  only 
the  value  of  song,  but  the  fact  that  we  upon  the  stage 
are  merely  men  and  women,  and  none  the  worse  or  better 
because  of  our  profession. 

Had  anything  happened  to  me,  or  was  it  that  some 
thing  had  happened  to  Haverford?  Nothing  had  hap 
pened  to  me  except  the  daily,  monthly,  yearly,  continual 


372       A  QUAKER  SINGER'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

application  to  musical  and  histrionic  pursuits  of  a  mind 
that  could  do  nothing  else.  Therefore  something  must 
have  happened  to  the  college.  The  rising  generation, 
and  those  of  the  older  school  who  remained,  had  lived 
to  see  a  time  not  contemplated  by  its  founders,  when 
music  and  the  drama  had  become  recognized  factors  in 
the  daily  life  of  the  community.  No  longer  are  they 
to  be  looked  upon  as  wicked  or  at  least  idle  pastimes,  but 
as  a  means  of  education.  Hence  it  is,  I  suppose,  that  I  as 
their  representative  was  given  a  place  among  educators, 
and  I  was  proud  thus  to  be  considered  worthy  of  the 
honor  which  my  college  had  conferred  upon  me.  The 
world  to  come,  the  future  life,  is  full  of  possibilities;  men 
and  women  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  a  new  era,  the 
longed-for  millennium.  Upon  the  individual  rests  the 
responsibility  of  making  his  work  good,  and  to  uplift  by 
his  attitude  everything  he  may  lay  his  hand  to;  as  says 
the  poet  George  Herbert: 

"  Who  sweeps  a  room  as  by  God's  law 
Makes  that  and  the  action  fine/* 

Music  has  meant  so  much  to  me  from  boyhood,  has 
been  so  much  a  part  of  my  youth  and  early  manhood, 
and  has  become  so  much  to  me  in  my  maturity,  that  I  can 
not  bring  these  recollections  to  a  close  without  a  summing- 
up  of  my  understanding  of  this  empress  of  modern  arts. 
In  our  music  alone  does  it  seem  certain  that  we  have  sur 
passed  the  ancients  in  the  finer  arts  of  human  life,  fol 
lowing  in  their  footsteps  the  eternal  quest  of  beauty. 
He  would  be  bold  who  should  claim  our  present  superior 
ity  in  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  poetry,  and  drama. 
In  music  alone  can  we  assert  ourselves  as  masters  of  a 
technique  finer  than  the  world  has  ever  known  before. 


DIVERSE  INTERESTS  373 

We  can  do  more.  Is  there  a  painting  as  delicate  and 
descriptive  as  the  pictures  music  brings  to  the  mind's  eye, 
a  statue  ennobled  by  poetry  that  will  not  gain  by  the 
harmonies  at  our  command,  a  building  whose  aspirations 
toward  the  skies  are  not  winged  by  solemn  chants,  a 
poem  or  a  play  that  does  not  find  its  finer  inspiration 
doubled  in  loveliness  and  in  permanent  value  by  its  wed 
ding  to  immortal  melody?  Is  there  a  conception  of  life 
beyond  the  grave  that  does  not  spring  from  the  music 
of  eternity?  Truly,  as  Carlyle  says,  u  Music  is  well  said 
to  be  the  speech  of  angels." 


THE   END 


INDEX 


Abbot,  Emma  (soprano),  34 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  50 
Academy  of  Music   (Philadelphia), 

.29,  36,  52,  196,  227,  230,  367 
Accident  to  throat,  72 
Achenbach,      Andreas       (painter), 

136. 

Acropolis,  24 

Adams,  Suzanne   (singer),  292,  294 
Adelaide    (Australia),,   365 
"Adelaide,"    (play,  Hugo  Miiller), 

215,  216,  217,  285 
Africa,  288 
African,  287 
"  Agamemnon,"   154 
"Aghadoe"   (song),  359 
Agnostic,   the    (Huxley),   73 
"Ai'da"    (opera,   Verdi),    in,   170, 

187 

Aide,  Hamilton    (author),  77 
Albani,    Madame     (soprano),    113, 

123,  166,  182,  183,  265,  305 
Albany,  283,  317 

Alberich  (in  "  Rheingold,"  Wag 
ner),  112,  123,  167,  191,  206, 

208,  247,  250,  251,  253,  254,  309 
Alexander,    George     (actor),     150, 

151 

Alfio  (in  "  Cavalleria  Rusticana"), 

124,  139 

Allen,  Grant   (author),  147 

Alma  Mater,  34,  371 

Alps,  136 

Alvarez   (tenor),  184,  193,  292,  295 

Alvary,  Max  (tenor),  114,  123, 
136,  139,  145 

Amadi,  Madame   (singer),  165 

Amateur's  Drawing-Room  (Phila 
delphia),  42,  43 

America,  12,  61,  62,  125,  129,  144, 
148,  154,  156,  159,  181,  184,  186, 
188,  189,  190,  197,  198,  203,  206, 

209,  212,  216,  218,  224,  226,  230, 
241,  260,  280,  286,  288,  291,  292, 
311,  313-315,  32i,  322,  324,  339, 
364,  366,  368,  369 


American,    10,    129,    132,    137,    182, 

184,  185,  188,  197,  198,  201,  204, 

208,  214,  216,  218,  225,  228,  229, 

287,  294,  303,  305,  310,  367,  368, 

370 

American  Actors  and  Actresses,  330 
American  Colony  in  Florence,  65 
American  Composers,  107,  119,  197, 

290,  317,  338,. 348 
American  Compositions,  320 
American  Indian,  93 
American  Minister,  319 
American  Music  Society,  338 
American  Musician,  209,  226 
American  Negro  Melodies,  295 
American  Negro  Spirituals,  348 
American  Poets,  344 
American  Sage    (Walt  Whitman), 

15 

American  Sculptors,  327 
American  Songstresses,  100 
American  Stage,  327,  371 
American  Students,  240 
"  American,    The"     (play,    Henry 

James),  150 
American  Tour,  336 
American  Writer,  15 
Americanism,   198 
Americans,  135,  177,  198,  200,  227, 

235,  248,  251,  253,  266,  271,  281, 

283 
Amfortas     (in     "Parsifal"),     127, 

206,  310 
Amonasro     (in     "  Ai'da,"     Verdi)., 

in,  112,  115,  266 
Ancona  (singer),  137,  183,  187 
Anderson,  Mary  (actress),  293 
Anderson,  Percy  (artist),  100 
Anderson,  Sarah   (soprano),  300 
Andre,  Major,  271 
Andrew  the  Rich,  276,  277,  278,  279 
Anecdote  of  Edwin  Booth,  357,  358 
Anecdote  of  Mark  Twain,  341,  342 
Anecdote      of      Mme.      Schumann- 

Heink,  341 


375 


376 


INDEX 


"Angel  of  the  House,"  The,  152 
Anglin,  Margaret    (actress),  284 
Anglo-Saxon  Talk,  23 
Ann  Arbor,  218,  226 
Annapolis,  132 

"  Anniversary,  The  "    (opera,  Bow 
ers),  343 

"Antigone"   (tragedy),  310,  337 
Antwerp,  259 
Apollo  Club,  283 
"Apostles,  The  "  (oratorio,  Elgar), 

3" 

Apostle  Paul,  345 
Apothecary    (in    "Romeo    and   Ju 
liet,"  comic  opera),  45 
Apothecary       (in       "The       Night 

Bell"),  369. 

Arbos,  Senor  (violinist),  131,  164 
Arch     Street     Theatre      (Philadel 
phia),  39    . 

Archer,  William  (author),  270 
"Archibald  Douglas"  (song),  159 
Arch  Street,  2 
Arimondi   (singer),  165 
Arion  Club   (Columbus),  286 
Arion  Club   (Philadelphia),  48 
Arizona,  283  . 

Armbruster,  Carl   (conductor),  112, 

117 
Arthur  (in  "The  Scarlet  Letter"), 

222 

Art  Theatre  Society,  The,  275 

"At  Evening's  Hour"   (song),  350 

Athenian  Amphitheatres,  284 

Athens,  24,  25,  276 

Atlantic  City,  i 

Atlantic  Ocean,  185,  266,  303 

"At     Last     the     Bounteous     Sun" 

(song),  350 
"Atonement  of  Pan,  The"    (music 

drama,  Redding  and  Hadley), 

360,  362 

Auber  (composer),  165 
Auburn,  15 

Auditorium  Theatre,  241,  243 
Australia,  n,  363,  364 
Australians,  365 
"Autumnal  Gale"    (song),  350 

Bach  Choir,  127,  163 

Bach,  J.  S.  (composer),  52,  131,  145, 

180,  228,  286,  350 
Bach  Festival,  133,  163 
Bagby,  Morris,  216 


Baird,  Frank  (teacher),  59 
Balfe   (composer),  88,  126 
Balfour,  Arthur  (statesman),  266 
Baliol  College,  135 
Ball,  Thomas  (sculptor),  65 
Ballad  Concert,  135 
Balmoral  Castle,  213 
Baltimore,  259,  342 
Bancroft,  Squire  (actor),  73 
Bandrowski   (singer),  301 
Bangs,  F.  C.  (actor),  41 

As  Sardanapolus,  41 

As  Mark  Antony,  41 
Banjo,  28 

Barbirolli    (pianist),  68 
Bar  Harbor,  354 

Barili,  Ettore  (Patti's  teacher),  48 
Barker,  Granville  (actor),  270 
Barnard,   George  Gray    (sculptor), 

Barnes,  Jack  (actor),  as  Romeo,  42 
Barrett,  Lawrence   (actor),  38,  41 
"Basoche,    The"     (opera,    Messa- 

ger),  81,  97,  100,  102,  108,  in 
"Bastien    and    Bastienne"    (opera, 

Mozart),  368,  369 
Baths  of  Diocletian,  154 
"Battle    Cry    of    Freedom,"    The 

(song),  65 
Batley,  174 

Bauermeister,  Miss  (singer),  292 
Baveux  tapestry,   307 
Bayard  (ambassador),  304 
"Bay  of  Biscay,  The"    (song),  84 
Bayreuth,  58,  74,  104,  in,  112,  127, 

134,  167,  190,  241,  303,  358 
Beatrice   (in  "Much  Ado"),  294 
Beckmesser    (in   "Die  Meistersing- 

er,"     Wagner),     58,     111-115, 

!23,  137,  139,  187,  206,  208,  253, 

266 

Bede,  the  Venerable,  10,  n 
Bedford,  Herbert,  146 
Bedford,   Herbert,   Mrs.,   332-334 
Beecham,  Sir  Thomas   (conductor), 

107 
Beethoven,    29,    51,    163,    179,    204, 

215,  217,    218,    219,    226,    228, 
236,  250,  285,  287,  320,  348,  350 

Beethoven    (in    "Adelaide"),    215, 

216,  217,  310,  344 
Belgian,  241 

"Belle     Dame     sans     Merci,     La" 
(song),  359 


INDEX 


377 


Bellincioni,  Madame  Gemma 
(singer),  166,  167 

Bell  Song  ("Lakme"),  265 

"Bells,  The"   (play),  66 

Belmont,  Mr.,  274 

Beneckes,  the  Alfred  (cousins  of 
Mendelssohn),  147 

Benedick    (in  "Much  Ado"),  294 

Benoist   (composer),  219 

Benson,  Lionel    (director),  102,  106 

Bergh,  Arthur  (composer),  280, 
281,  338 

Berkeley,  Calif.  (Greek  Theatre), 
25,  284 

Berkeley,  Calif.,  361 

Berlin,  108,  216 

Berlin,  Royal  Opera,  108,  228 

Berlioz  (composer),  145,  159,  219, 
228 

Bernhardt,  Sarah  (actress),  232, 
284,  291-293 

Besant,  Mrs.  Anne   (author),  76 

"Bethlehem"  (oratorio,  Macken 
zie),  131 

Bevan,  Alexander   (singer),  172 

Bevignani    (conductor),  187 

"Bianca"   (opera,  Hadley),  370 

Bible,  194,  250 

Bible  reading,  89,  195 

Bigod  (Roger  and  Hugh,  ances 
tors),  14 

Bilboss   (in  "Joan"),  83 

Bill  (in  "Vicar  of  Wakefield"), 
334 

Bird,  Henry  (pianist),  181 

Birmingham,  211,  212,  288 

Birmingham  Festival,  61,  160,  209, 
286 

Biscop,  Benedict   (Abbot),  10,  n 

Biscop   (Saxon  family),  10 

Biscopham   (original  name),  n 

Bisham  Abbey,  12 

Bishop   (composer),  88,  350 

Bismarck,  332 

Bispham  Coat  of  Arms,  9 

Bispham,  David  (singer),  341,  342, 

354 

Bispham,  David  (sketch  of),  5,  340 
Bispham  Family,  6,  10,  n,  12,  22 
Bispham  Hall  (old  home),  10,  22 
Bispham  Houses,  6 
Bispham,  John    (uncle),  28,  30 
Bispham,     Maria     Stokes     (grand 
mother),    14 


Bispham,  (misspellings  of  —  Beech- 
mann,  Besphain,  Besphourm, 
Besthon,  Bicham,  Biftham,  Bi- 
pham,  Biscamb,  Biscopem,  Bis- 
copeym,  Bisfam,  Bisfan,  Bis 
ham,  Bishham,  Bishamp,  Bish- 
phan,  Biskham,  Bispam,  Bis- 
pame,  Bisparn,  Bispen,  Bispin, 
Bisphame,  Bisphan,  Bisphain, 
Bisphen,  Bispum,  Bisplain,  Bip- 
sham,  Bispthan,  Bispthane,  Bis- 
tam,  Bisthiam,  Bisthan,  Bix- 
ham,  Dispam,  Dispham  and 
Dishchan,  u,  12 

Bispham,  Samuel  (grandfather), 
14 

Bispham,  William   (1597),  22 

Bispham,  William  Danforth  (fa 
ther),  2 

Bispham,  William  (New  York),  22, 

Bizet  (composer),  301,  310 
Black,  Andrew    (barytone),   121 
Black,  Mrs.  Morris  (singer),  290 
"Blackbird    and    the    Crow,    The" 

(song),  295 
"Blackbird's    Song,    The,"    (song), 

C.  Scott,  350 
Blackpool,  140 
Blake  (artist),  79 
Blank,  Mr.   (pianist),  190,  249 
Blass,  Robert  (basso),  294 
Blauvelt,  Lillian   (singer),  198,  290 
Blavatsky,      Madame       (occultist), 

76 

Bloch-Ernest   (composer),  306 
Blowitz,  151 

Blue  Reserves  (Civil  War  regi 
ment),  3 

Blumenthal  (composer),  88 
Bodanzsky,       Artur       (conductor), 

369 
Bohemian  Club,  338,  339,  353,  356, 

360,  364 
"Bohemian     Girl,     The"     (opera, 

Balfe),  30,  84,  126,  127 
Boito  (composer),  228 
Bologna,  Italy,  68 
Book  of  Job,  The,  370 
Book  of  Revelation,  4 
"Bookworm,   The"    (picture),    80 
Booth,   Edwin    (actor),   38,  40,  41, 

324,  328,  357,  358 
As  Brutus,  41 


378 


INDEX 


Booth,   Edwina    (Mrs.   Grossman), 

324 

Booth  Theatre   (New  York),  370 

Bordighera,  89 

Borwick,  Leonard  (English  pian 
ist),  131,  163 

Boston,  ix,  55,  178,  199,  217,  220, 
247-249,  322,  329,  331,  336, 
338 

Museum,  39 
Public,  39 

Boston  Common,  248 

Boston  Symphony  Orchestra,  55, 
128,  219,  221,  248,  260,  358 

Bowers,  Robert  Hood    (composer), 


Box  Hill,  147 

Bozenta,  Count,  331 

Bradford,  174 

Braham  (composer),  88 

Brahms,  Johannes  (composer),  32, 
105,  134,  164,  190,  194,  195,  197, 
204,  226,  228,  250,  286,  320,  348, 

350 

Brangane  (in  "Tristan,"  Wag 
ner),  119,  303 

Branscombe  (composer),  350 

Brema,  Marie  (singer),  208,  258, 
265,  294 

Brignoli    (tenor),  35 

"Brindisi,  The"    (song),  241 

Britain,  10,  129 

British  and  American  Festival 
Peace  Concert,  305 

British  Composers,  107,  177 

British  Embassy,  127 

British  Isles,  131,  313,  348 

British  Metropolis,  164 

British  Museum  (London),  79, 
80 

British  Nation,  303 

British  Poets,  344 

British  Press,  118 

British  Provinces,  124 

Britifh  Public,  169 

British  Spy   (Story  of),  271 

British  Yeomen,  15 

Briton,  the,  304 

Broadway,  132,  330 

Brockway,     Howard      (composer), 

290,  359 

Broadway  Managers  (story  of), 
271 


Bronson,   Mrs.    (friend   of  Brown 
ing),  66 

Brooklyn  Academy  of  Music,  221, 
250,  358 

Brooklyn  Institute,  249 

Browning,   Mrs.    Elizabeth   Barrett 
(poetess),  66 

Browning,    Robert    (poet),    66,    82, 
158,  243,  248,  271,  281 

Brozel,  Philip   (tenor),  166 

Bruch,  Max  (composer),  52 

Briinnhilde    (in   "The  Valkyrie"), 
191,  250,  254,  256,   293,    309 

Brutus  ("Julius  Caesar"),  329,  330 
Davenport  as,  41 
Booth  as,  41 
(Speech  of),  20 

Bryce,     Right     Honorable     James 
(ambassador),    339 

Bryn  Mawr  College,  241 

Buck,  Dudley  (composer),  53,  197 

Buckingham  Palace,   169,   171,   184, 
264 

Buffalo,  321 

Bull,  John,  166 

Bull,  Ole  (violinist),  30 

Bull  of  Bashan,  voice  of,  114 

Bull  Run,  3 

Bullet  Hole  Fence,  7 

Buonamici   (pianist),  68 

Burchell,    Mr.    ("Vicar    of    Wake- 
field"),  334 

Burgstaller,  Aloys  (tenor),  292 

Burleigh,    Henry     (negro    compos 
er),  295 

Burlington  County,  6 

Burne-Jones   (painter),  146 

Burnett,     Mrs.     Frances     Hodgson 
(writer),   42,   89,    153 

Burnett,  Lionel,  153 

Burns  (poet),  87,  235,  344 

Burton,  Sir  Richard,  152 

Bushnell,  Erickson  (singer),  160 

Butt,    Madame    Clara    (contralto), 
121,  179,  305 

Buzzard's  Bay,  328 

Byron,   Lord    (poet),   83,   235,   323, 
324,  344 


Caesar,  329 

"  Cahal  Mor"  (song),  359 
Cahier,  Madame   (singer),  290 
California,  338,  353,  354 


INDEX 


379 


Calve,  Emma    (soprano),  166,  187, 

i93,  i94,  244,  296 
Cambridge,  117 

Cambridge  University,  117,  209 
Camden,  15 

Campanari (barytone),  187,  220,  296 
"  Campanello,  II,"  368,  369 
Canada,  296,  302,  320,  357 
Canadian,  305 
Carlyle  (poet),  373 
Carl  Rosa  Company,  106,  171 
"Carmen"   (opera,  Bizet),  30,  124, 

139,  187,  193,  369 
Carnegie,  Andrew   (story  of),  269- 

279 
Carnegie   Hall    (New   York),    126, 

157,  197,  221,  249,  300,  318,  321, 

322,  323,  336,  337,  358 
Carnegie  Lyceum,  197 
Carpenter,  John  Alden  (composer), 

290 

Carreno,  Madame  Teresa  (pian 
ist),  337 

Carritte,  Miss  Nita   (actress),  217 
Carte,  D'Oyley   (manager),  92,  95- 

97 

Cassius   (Barrett  as),  41 

Castelmary   (basso),  35,  115,  187 

"Cavalier  Tunes"  (songs,  Stan 
ford),  82 

Cathedral  Glass,  10 

"  Cavalleria  Rusticana "  (opera, 
Mascagni),  124,  139,  166,  187 

"  Cave  Man,  The  "  (music  drama, 
McCoy),  353,  354 

Cecilian  Society  (oratorio  society), 
48,  52 

Cedric  the  Saxon  (in  "Ivanhoe"), 
92 

Cellier,  Alfred  (conductor),  96,  97 

"  Centennial  Cantata,  The "  (Buck), 

Centennial     Exposition     (Philadel 
phia,  1876),  53 
Central  Park,  273 
Chadwick,    Geo.    W.     (composer), 

"9,   *97>   338,  350 
Chamberlain,  Will  (boy  friend),  28 
Chambers,    Haddon     (playwright), 

142 

Chaminade,  Mile,    (composer),  350 
Chappell,  Arthur    (director),   179 
Cheatham,  Kitty  (singer),  217 
Chester  Cathedral  (England),  22 


Chesterfield,  Lord,  234 

Chew  Mansion,  7 

Chicago,  59,  125,  154,  155,  194,  217, 

219,  220,  221,  241,  247,  283,  285, 

286,  293,  324,  329,  333,  341 

Chicago  Orchestra,  281 

Chillingworth  ("The  Scarlet  Let 
ter"),  222 

Chinese,  325 

Chinese  Theatre,  234 

Choate,  Joseph  H.  (ambassador), 
304 

Choate,  Mrs.,  304 

Chopin   (composer),  332 

"Choufleuri"    (opera,    Offenbach), 

45 

Christ  Church,  50 
Christie's  Minstrels,  91,  295 
Christmas  Pantomime,  38 
Church  of  England  (music  of),  49 
Cincinnati,  324,  325,  343 
Cincinnati  College  of  Music,  343 
Cincinnati  Festival,  218,  228,  285 
City  of  New  York,  365 
Civil  War,  3,  7,  16,  319 
Civil  War  Songs,  65 
Clara    (in  play,  "Adelaide")*  217 
Clarendon  House,  i 
Classic  Theatre,  25,  269,  270,  272- 

274,  276 

Claudio   (in  "Much  Ado"),  294 
Clemens,  Clara  (singer),  341 
Cleveland,      Grover      (President), 

327,  328 

Coates,  John  (tenor),  294 
Coquelin    (actor),  232,  291-293 
Coini,  Jacques  (stage  director),  369 
Cole,  Belle  (singer),  306 
Cole,  Rossetter  G.  (composer),  280 
Coleridge-Taylor,     S.     (composer), 

287-289 
Colonel  Berners  (in  "  Cut  Off  with 

a  Shilling"),  44 
Colorado  River,  356 
Columbian  Exposition,  154 
Columbia  River,  357 
Columbus  Circle   (N.  Y.),  369 
Columbus,  O.,  286 
Comedie   Franchise,  270 
"  Come    into    the    Garden,    Maud " 

(song),  88 

Commencement  Day,  371 
Commissioner  of  Parks,  154 
Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania,  n 


38o 


INDEX 


Connecticut,  341 

Conried   (impresario),  309 

Constantinople,  25 

Continent,  the,  286,  303 

Convention  Hall,  297 

Converse,      Frederic      (composer), 

359 

Cooke,  Jay  (banker),  33 
Cooper,   Fenimore    (author),  65 
Cooper,  Mrs.  William   (musician), 

65 

Cooper,  William  (sculptor),  65 

Cope,  Henry  (cousin),  19 

Coppelius  (opera,  "Tales  of  Hoff 
mann"),  370 

"  Coquaine  "  (overture,  Elgar),  311 

Corinthians,  First,  345 

"Coronation  Ode"  (Elgar),  311 

Corsi,  Pini   (singer),  139 

Costanzi  Theatre,  24 

Count  Bozenta,  331 

Count  Montebello  (in  "The  Ferry 
Girl,"  Hill),  82 

Count  Rudolfo,  84 

Court  Opera,  (Vienna),  321 

Covent  Garden  Opera  House  (Lon 
don),  35,  73,  83,  85,  105,  107, 
112,  113,  115,  117,  118,  124,  129, 
136,  137,  139,  145,  165,  166,  170, 
171,  181,  182,  185,  206,  208, 
260-262,  294,  302 

Cowboys,  325 

Cowen,  Sir  Frederick  (composer), 
105,  134,  1 66,  205 

"Cox    &   Box"    (opera,    Sullivan), 

43 

Cox  (in  "Cox  &  Box"),  43 
Cramer,  Pauline   (soprano),  117 
Crawford,  F.  Marion  (novelist),  65 
"Creation,         The"          (oratorio, 

Haydn),   52,  320 
"Creation's  Hymn,"    (song),  350 
Cremonini    (singer),   187,  193 
Cricket,  game  of,   19 
Croatian  Singer,  291 
Croesus,  276,  279 

Crookes,  Sir  William  (scientist),  76 
Cross,  Michael  H.    (musician),  33, 

47,  48,  49 
Crystal  gazing,  79 
Crystal    Palace    (London),    58,    82, 

124,  131,  159,  305 
"  Cujus  Animam"  (song),  69 
Cupid,  323 


"Cup  of  Tea,  A"  (play),  44 
Cushman,  Charlotte  (actress),  38 
"Cut  Off  with  a  Shilling"   (play), 

44 
Cycle  of  Great  Song  Cycles,  323 

Dakota,  285 

Daland    (in    "The    Flying   Dutch 
man,"  Wagner),  121,  167 
D'Albert,  Eugene   (pianist),  282 
Dame  Quickly  (in  "Falstaff"),  139 
"Damnation  of   Faust"    (Berlioz), 

145,  219,  228 
Damrosch,      Walter      (conductor), 

125,  217,  219,  220,  221,  222, 
223,  230,  233,  235,  236,  283, 
285,  291,  296,  310,  311,  313,  323, 
324,  328,  350 

Dancing  Dervishes,  25,  26 
Dane,  the    ("Hamlet"),  143 
Dannreuther  Quartette,  217 
"Danny  Deever"    (song  by  Dam 
rosch),  230,  231,  236,  283,  317, 
318,  328,  350,  357 
"  Danny  Deever,  The  Hanging  of  " 

(poem,  Kipling),  230 
Darwin,  Charles   (scientist),  372 
"  Daughter      of      the      Regiment " 

(opera,  Donizetti),  369 
Davenport,  E.  L.  (actor),  41 
"David"  (Michael  Angelo's),  65 
David,   the   Singer   of  the   Church, 

276,  277 

Davies,  Ben   (tenor),  100,  229,  305 
Davies,  Fanny    (pianist),   135,   164, 

180,  236 

Davies,  Ffrangc.on    (singer),  306 
Davies,  Walford,  158 
Davis,  Richard  Harding    (author), 

230 
"Death  of   Nelson,   The"    (song), 

88 

De  Bohun,  Henry  (ancestor),  14 
Debussy,  Claude  (composer),  306 
Declaration  of  Independence,  3 
De  Clare,  Richard  and  Gilbert  (an 
cestor),  14 
De    Koven,    Reginald    (composer), 

43,.I97 

De  Lacie,  John   (ancestor),  14 
Delaware  River,  15 
Delibes    (composer),  350 
Del   Puente,    Giuseppe    (barytone), 

56,  227 


INDEX 


381 


De  Lucia  (tenor),  165,  265 

De  Mowbray,  William   (ancestor), 

J4 
De  Nevers  (in  "  Les  Huguenots"), 

124,  139,  183 
De  Pachmann,  Vladimir    (pianist), 

330,  33i 

De  Quincey,  Saher  (ancestor),  14 

De  Reszke,  Edouard  (basso),  129, 
182,  187,  191,  244,  250,  266,  267, 
290,  292,  297,  309 

De  Reszke,  Jean  (tenor),  113,  123, 
129,  137,  182,  185,  187,  191,  192, 
232,  244,  250,  266,  267,  292 

"Der  Freischiitz"  (opera,  Weber), 
136 

Dervishes,  Dancing,  25,  26 

Dervishes,  Howling,  26 

De  Treville,  Yvonne  (soprano), 
217 

Detroit,  285 

DeVere,  Clementine   (singer),  190 

De  Vere,  Robert  (ancestor),  14 

Dewsbury,  174 

Diamond  Jubilee,  264 

Dibdin,  Charles   (composer),  84 

"  Dichterliebe  "  (song  cycle,  Schu 
mann),  205 

Dick    (in  "Vicar  of  Wakefield"), 

334 

Dickens,  Charles  (author),  261 
Dickens's  Land,  80 
Dicksee,  Frank  (painter),  146 
Dictionary  of  Music  and  Musicians, 

"Die  Frisst  is  um"  (song),  262 
Diligent  Engine   Company    (Phila 
delphia),  3 
Dippel,  Andreas   (tenor),  243,  249, 

292,  296 

Dobson,  Austin  (poet),  332 
Doctor  Fleming  (in  "  Weak  Wom 
an"),  44 
Doctor  of  Laws  —  LL.D.     (Degree 

of),  37i 

Dogberry  (in  "Much  Ado"),  294 
Dolmetsch,  Arnold  (musician),  131, 

145,  168,  169 
Domesday  Book,  10,  n 
"Domestic    Symphony"     (Strauss), 

323 

"Don   Carlos"    (opera,  Verdi),  24 
"Don  Giovanni"  (opera,  Mozart), 

187,  265,  266 


Don     Hannibal     (in    "The    Night 

Bell"),  369 

Donizetti  (composer),  350,  368,  369 
Don  Jose  (opera  "Carmen"),  369 
Donoghue,  John  (sculptor),  153, 

154 

Dorking,  147 

Dramatic  Literature,  Love  for,  40 
"Dream     of     Fair     Women,     A" 

(Tennyson),  358 
"Dream   of    Gerontius"    (oratorio, 

Elgar),  287,  311 
"Dreams"   (song),  350 
Dresden,  266 
Drew,  John   (actor),  39 
Drew,    Mr.    and    Mrs.    John,    the 

elder   (actors),  39,  40 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  114,  136,  180, 

261 

Dryden   (poet),  211 
Dublin,  313 

Dublin,  University  of,  117 
Due  de  Longueville  (in  "The  Ba- 

soche"),  81,  97,  100 
Duke  of  Connaught,  265 
Duke  of  Edinburgh,  103 
Duse,  Elenora   (actress),  166 
"Dutchman,   The   Flying"    (opera, 

Wagner),    121,    167,    172,    190, 

220,  228,  233,  244,  247,  260,  264, 

322 

Dvorak  (composer),  228,  287 
Dysart,  Lord,  112 

Eames,  Emma  (soprano),  137,  184, 
187,  207,  220,  241,  243,  249,  250, 
252,  290,  296,  309 

Earthquake  in  Italy,  63,  64 

Eastern  States,  283 

Easton,  Madame  Florence  (so 
prano),  368 

"Ecco  il  Leone,"  295 

Edgardo  (Reeves  as),  85 

Edinburgh,  128 

"Edward"   (song,  by  Loewe),  159, 

350 

Edwin  Forrest  Home  (Philadel 
phia),  126 

"Egmont"   (drama,  Goethe),  310 
Egyptian  Mummy  (poem  on),  79 
Eisler,  Paul   (conductor),  369 
"Elaine"    (Tennyson),  358 
Elberfeld  Horses,  116 
Elderly  Friend's  Story,  53 


382 


INDEX 


Elgar,    Edward    (composer),    287, 

3" 

Elihu   (in  "Job"),  371 
"Elijah"    (oratorio,  Mendelssohn), 

52,  160,  163,  211,  219,  285,  341, 

Elizabeth  (in  "Tannhauser  "),  172, 
207,  241 

Ellis,  Chas.  (manager  Boston  Sym 
phony  Orchestra),  219,  220 

Ellis-Damrosch  Opera  Company, 
232 

Elsa  (in  "Lohengrin"),  182,  220, 
250 

Elsenheimer,  Dr.  N.  J.   (composer), 

358 

Emperor  William  (Old),  32 

Empire  Theatre,  368 

Engadine  (Swiss),  72 

England,  10,  n,  12,  22,  60,  61,  62, 
72,  102,  105,  121,  125,  129,  131, 
144,  1 60,  1 68,  172,  174,  178,  204, 

205,  209,  210,  212,  224,  229,  231, 

234,  236,  266,  268,  286,  289,  295, 

303,  306,  3" 

Engle,  Marie  (soprano),  166 
English,  207,  209,  212,  213,  214,  294, 

324 
English,    a    world    language,    105, 

143,  184,  334,  345 
English  Channel,  33,  106 
English  Comedies,  270 
English    Composers,    33,    119,    287, 

303,  348 

English  Compositions,  320 
English  Ditties,  14 
English  Festivals,  106,  174,  210 
English  Lyrics,  283 
English  Music,  51,  168,  177,  313 
English,  opera  in,  30,  32,  108,  123, 

166,  171,  251,  294,  310 
English  Play,  40 
English  Poets,  344 
English  Selections,  134 
English,  songs  in,  33,  317 
English-speaking  World,  95,  224 
English-speaking     Audiences,     105, 

188,  225,  344,  345,  368 
English  Versions,  344 
"  Englishwoman's      Love      Letters, 

An"   (novel),  333 
"  Enoch  Arden"  (melodrama),  280, 

302,  306,  314,  320,  321 
Episcopal  Academy,  40 


Epistle  of  David,  the,  276 
Erda  (in  "Rheingold  "),  309 
"Erl   King,   The"    (song,  Loewe), 

i59 
"Erl  King,  The"  (song,  Schubert), 

49,  104,  226 
"Esmeralda"        (opera,        Goring 

Thomas),   105 
"Esmeralda"    (play),  42 
"  Eugen    Onegin  "    (opera,   Tschai- 

kowsky),  1 08 
Europe,  124,  133,  148,  156,  161,  181, 

183,  189,  198,  200,  204,  237,  248, 

266,  290,  302,  303,  315,  337,  364 
European,  253,  256 
European  Artists,  330 
European  Countries,  347 
European  Peasants,  325 
European  Trip,  21-27,   57,   58,    59, 

266 

Europeanism,  198 

"Euryanthe"    (opera,  Weber),  164 
Eva     (in    "  Mfiistersinger,"    Wag 
ner),  123,  137 
"  Evangelimann  "    (opera,  Kienzl), 

206 

Evanston,  339,  341 
"Eve"  (oratorio,  Massenet),  219 
"Evelyn    Innes "     (novel,    George 

Moore),  151 

Evil  One,  Music  Wile  of,  29 
"Excelsior"    (poem),  16 

Fair  Rosamund's  Bower,  236 
"Falstaff"    (in  opera,  Verdi),  121, 

122,  136,  139,  143,  166,  266 
Cast  from  Milan,  124 
(Opera  "Falstaff"),  139,  140 
"Fair    Hedwig"    (ballad,    Hebel), 

1 80 
Fat   Knight,    the    (in    "Falstaff"), 

H3 

Faure,  Gabriel  (composer),  180 

"Faust,  Damnation  of"  (Berlioz), 
145,  219,  228 

"Faust"  (opera,  Gounod),  30,  36, 
113,  139,  187,  313 

Faversham,  Mrs.  William  (ac 
tress),  216 

Fechter,  Charles  (actor),  40,  41,  311 

Feld   (conductor),  172 

"  Ferry  Girl,  The  "  (operetta,  Lady 
Arthur  Hill),  82 

Festival  (New  York),  52 


INDEX 


383 


Festival  Peace  Concert,  305 

"  Fidelio  "    (opera,  Beethoven),  136 

Field,    Charles    K.     (author),    339, 

353,  354 

Field,  Eugene  (poet),  339 
Fifth  Avenue,  273 
Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  (N.  Y.),  132 
"First  Day"    (Sunday),   19 
First  Opera    ("Martha"),  30 
Fischer,  Emil  (singer),  220 
"  Floods   of    Spring,   The "    (Rach 
maninoff),  350 
Florence,  23,  61,  63,  64-71,  72,  74, 

75,  215 
Florence    of    Worcester,    Chronicle 

of,  10 
"Florentine       Tragedy"       (Oscar 

Wilde),  358 

Florentine  Singer,  Story  of,  69,  70 
Florida,  302,  362 
Floridia,  Pietro   (conductor),  343 
Flosshilde    (in    "  Rheingold "),    251 
"Flying   Dutchman,   The"    (opera, 
Wagner),    121,    167,    172,    190, 
220,  228,  233,  244,  247,  260,  264, 
322 

Foote,  Arthur  (composer),  119,  197 
Forbes-Robertson,      Sir      Johnstone 

(actor),  62,  73 
Ford,  Ernest  (composer),  82,  94-96, 

97 

Ford,  Mrs.  Seabury  (soprano),  225 
Ford    (opera  "Falstaff"),   139 
Foreign  Composers,  348 
Foreman   of   the   Jury    ("Trial   by 

Jury"),  44 

Forest,  Arthur   (actor),  329,  330 
"Forest,    The"     (opera,    Smythe), 

303 

Fort  Sumter,  3 

Foster,  Muriel    (English  alto),  311 
Four  o'Clock  Concerts,  293 
"Four    Serious    Songs"    (Brahms), 

190,  194,  197,  226,  250 
"Fourth    Day"     (Wednesday),    19 
Fourth  of  July,  4 
Fourth  Symphony  (Schumann),  228 
Fox,  George  (Early  Quaker),  29 
"  Fra  Diavolo  "   (opera  by  Auber), 

165,  166,  182 

France,   106,  224,  270,  305 
Franck,  Caesar   (composer),  228 
Franklin,  Benjamin   (statesman),  2, 

27,  304,  305 


Franklin  Square,  14 

Franko,  Sam,  368,  369 

Franz,  Robert  (composer),  348,  350 

"  Frauenliebe  und  Leben  "    (song), 

205,  349 
Free    Trade    Hall     (Manchester), 

121 

"  Freischutz,  Der  "  (opera  by  Web 
er),  136 
Fremstad,     Olive     (soprano),     303, 

304 

French,  139,   184,  206,  207,  224 
Canadian,  182 
Artists,  206 
French  Lessons,  17,  18 
French  Operas,  296 
Friar,    the    (in    "Romeo    and    Ju 
liet"),  292 

Friar,  the  (in  "Much  Ado"),  294 
Fricka   (in  "Rheingold"),  256,  258 
Friedrichs    (as    Beckmesser),    58 
Friends'  Meeting,  3,  20,  28,  93 
Friends'  School    (Philadelphia),   15 
Friends,  Society  of,  2,  6 
"Frithjof  "  (cantata,  Bruch),  52 
"Frithiof's  Return"   (Steele),  219 
Frohman,   Daniel    (manager),   216, 

33° 
"From   the    Uplands   to   the   Sea" 

(song),  158 

Frost   Scene    (Purcell's  "King  Ar 
thur"),  211,  253,  350 
"Fugitives,  The"  (recitation,  Shel 
ley),  1 80 

Fullerton,  Morton,  151 
Furness,    Doctor    Horace    Howard 
(Shakespearean     scholar),     45, 
127 

Furness,  Dr.  Horace  Howard,  Jr. 
(Shakespearean  scholar),  45, 
127 


Gabrilowitsch,  Ossip  (pianist),  341, 

342 
Gadski,  Madame  (singer),  209,  218, 

220,  247,  260,  264,  283,  290,  296, 

298,  309 

"Gaiety  Girl"    (comic  opera),  263 
Gaiety  Theatre,  98 
Galassi    (barytone),   56 
"Gallia"    (cantata,  Gounod),  52 
Galveston,  325 
Garden,  Mary   (soprano),  304,  307 


384 


INDEX 


Gardener,  The  (in  "Sweet 
hearts"),  43 

"Gardy"    (Reeves's  pet  name),  85 

Garrick,  David  (actor),  40,  261, 
338 

Garrison,  Mabel   (soprano),  368 

Gates,  Lucy  (singer),  369 

Gatty,  Alfred  (composer),  295 

Gaul,  George  (actor),  371 

Gave  up  smoking,  99 

"  Gems  of  Song  in  English,"  225 

General  von  Rosenberg  (in  "Her 
Bitterest  Foe"),  44 

Genius  of  Cold  (in  "King  Ar 
thur"),  253 

Gericke  (conductor),  358 

German  Actor,  280 

German  Classics,  344 

German  Composers,  344 

German  Element,  313 

German  Horseman,  23 

German  Language,  123,  139,  182, 
206,  207,  224,  226,  251,  303, 

324 

German  Lesson,  19 
German  Music,  208, 
German  Opera,  260 
German  Poems,  344 
German  Singers,  met,  74,  129,  267 
Germantown,  7,  48 
Germantown,  Battle  of,  7 
Germantown  Opera  House,  45 
Germany,    106,  216,  224,  256,  295, 

303 
Gertrude  (in  "Romeo  and  Juliet"), 

292 

Gettysburg  (Battle  of),  3 
Ghibelline  Battlements,  307 
Gilbert,  Harry    (accompanist),  362 
Gilbert,  W.  S.  (composer),  142,  143, 

350 
Gilbert  and   Sullivan's   operas,  42, 

83,  370 

"Sorcerer,"  44 
"  Trial  by  Jury,"  44 
Gilder,    Richard    Watson     (editor- 
poet),  230 

Giles,  Edward   (teacher),  47 
Gilmore,  "Pat"  (conductor),  29 
Glacial  Epoch,  253 
Gloucester    Cathedral     (England), 

5*f  173 

Gloucester  Festival,  174 
Gloucestershire,  236 


Gluck  (composer),  124,  285 

Godowsky,  Leopold   (pianist),  92 

Goethe,  161,  291 

"Golden  Haired  Gertrude"  (oper 
etta,  Parrish),  43 

"Golden  Legend,  The"  (cantata, 
Sullivan),  159 

Goldschmidt,  Otto,  205 

Goldsmith,  Oliver  (author),  258, 
332,  334 

Gomarez,  343 

Gordon,  MacKenzie  (tenor),  217, 
225 

Gospel  according  to  Andrew,  276 

Gosse,  Edmund   (author),  15 

"  Gotterdammerung,  The  "  (opera), 
167 

Gounod,  Charles  (composer),  52, 
131,  135,  160,  219,  265,  292,  302, 
3i3,  350,  369 

Gozlan   (writer),  293 

Grand  Canon,  356 

Grand  Opera,  105 

Grant,  General  Fred,  319 

Grant,  U.  S.  (President  and  Gen 
eral),  3,  49,  50,  319 

Grau,  Maurice  (director),  186,  187, 
189,  218,  219,  220,  245,  246,  250, 
259,  266,  301,  309,  310 

Great  Britain,  95,  266,  319 

Great  Eastern  Steamship,  ^^ 

Great  War,  369 

Great  White  Way,  238 

Greek  Theatres,  Athens,  24 

Greek  Theatre,  University  of  Cali 
fornia),  25,  284,  338 

Greek  Tragedies,  25,  89 

Green  Drawing-Room,  267 

Greene,  Plunkett  (singer),  121,  159 

Gregorian  Music,  10 

Gregorian  Chants,  10,  68 

Gregorowitsch    (Russian  violinist), 

Griddley   (in  "Sixty-Six"),  44 
Grieg,    Edvard     (composer),    219, 

228,  286,  350 

Grisi,  Madame  (soprano),  83 
Griswold,  Putnam  (basso),  294 
Grossman,    Mrs.     (Booth's    daugh 
ter),  324 
Grove,   The  Bohemian   Club,   353- 

354 

Grove  Plays,  354,  360 
Grove,  Sir  George   (editor),  55 


INDEX 


385 


Grosvenor  Gallery   (London),  82 

Guetary  (tenor),  123 

Guitar,  28 

"Guinevere"   (Tennyson),  358 

Gura   (singer),  58 

Gurney,  Edmund   (scientist),  76 


Haddow,  W.  H.  (writer),  117 
Hadley,    Henry     (composer),    197, 

226,  360,  370 
Hagen    (in    "  Gotterdammerung  "), 

167,  250,  309 

Hahn,  Reynaldo   (composer),  350 
"Hail  Smiling  Morn"  (madigral), 

87 
Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  362 

England,  174 

Hall,  Madame  Edna  (teacher),  329 
Hall  of  Fame,  281 
Hall,   Marguerite    (contralto),   135, 

197,  225,  328 
Halle,  Lady  (Madame  Norman  Ne- 

ruda,  violinist),  125,  179 
Halle,  Sir  Charles  (conductor),  120, 

121,   159 

"  Hamadryads,        The "         (music 

drama,  McCoy),  338,  353 
Hall  of  Song,  the,  298 
Hamburg,  113,  136 
Ham  House,  Richmond,  112 
"Hamlet"  (Booth  as),  38,  142,  357, 

358 

(Fechter  as),  311 

(Hampden  as),  371 

Opera   (Thomas),  187 

(Sarah  Bernhardt  as),  291 
Hamlet's    Soliloquy    (Shakespeare), 

20 

Hamlin,  George  (tenor),  368 
Hammerstein,    Oscar    (impresario), 

369 

Hampden,  Walter   (actor),  371 

Handel  Festival   (London),  58,  305 

Handel,  G.  H.  (composer),  47,  52, 
124,  219,  228,  306,  350 

Handelian  Singer,  53,  54 

Handel  and  Haydn  Society,  of  Bos 
ton,  248 

Hans  Sachs  (in  "Die  Meister- 
singer"),  58,  74,  in,  123,  137, 
139,  167 

"  Hansel  und  Gretel "  (opera, 
Humperdinck),  181 


"Hark!  Hark!   The  Lark"  (song), 

338 

Harley,  Orlando   (tenor),  132 
"Harold"    (opera,  Frederick  Cow- 
en),  1 66 
Harris,  Sir  Augustus   (impresario), 

106,  107,  112-115,  1 86 
Harris,  Victor  (teacher),  225 
Harrold,  Orville  (tenor),  370 
Hartford,  249 
Harvard  Club,  342 
Harvard  Stadium,  154 
Haverford    College     (Penna.),    16, 
18,  19,  20,  31,  33,  34,  241,  371     . 
Haverford  Station,  31 
Havergal,    Frances    Ridley    (poet 
ess),  161,  163 

Hay,  John  (ambassador),  304 
Haydn,    Michael     (composer),    47, 

52,  350 

Haymarket  Theatre,  140,   143 
Hawkesley   (in  "Still  Waters  Run 

Deep"),  44 

Hearst,  Mrs.  Phoebe,  284 
Hearst,  William  Randolph,  284 
"Heart      Bowed      Down,      The" 

(song),  126 
Hebbel   (poet),  180 
Hedmondt,  E.  C.  (tenor),  123,  171, 

172 

Heine  (poet),  205 
Heinrich,  Max    (barytone),  31,  32, 

33,  34,  47,  49,  52,  5$,  129,  299 
11  He  is  Kind"  (song),  350 
"He  Jests  at  Scars,"  313 
Henley,  259 
Henschel,    Georg    (conductor),    55, 

56,  103,  104,  128 
Henschel,     Mrs.     Georg     (singer), 

129,  135,  164 

Herald   ("Agamemnon"),  155 
Herbert,  George  (poet),  372 
"Her  Bitterest  Foe"    (play), 
Hereford,  173 
"Hereward"   (cantata,  Prout),  159 
Herford,  Oliver  (humorist),  99 
Herkomer,  Herman  (artist),  101 
Hero  (in  "Much  Ado"),  294 
Hertz,  Alfred  (conductor),  309 
"Herodiade"     (opera,    Massenet), 

H5 
Hester  (in  "The  Scarlet  Letter"), 

222 

"He,  the  Best  of  All"  (song),  350 


44 


386 


INDEX 


"  Hiawatha "  (cantata,  Coleridge- 
Taylor),  288 

"Hidalgo,   The"    (song),    350 
Higbee,  Miss  Beulah,  16 
Higbee,  Miss  Lill,  16 
Higbee,  Mrs.   (friend),  16 
Higginson,  Colonel,  178 
High  Jinks,  364 

Highland  Poachers,  Story  of,  271 
High  Priest  (in  "Passion  Music"), 

52 

Hill,   Lady  Arthur    (composer),   82 

Hill,  Lucille   (soprano),  100 

Hinshaw,  William  Wade  (impre 
sario),  369 

Hofmann    (composer),  159 

Hoffmann  (opera,  "Tales  of  Hoff 
mann"),  370 

Holbein  Room,  268 

Holman,    Joseph    (cellist),   82,   236 

Holy  Trinity  Church  (Philadel 
phia),  49 

Homer,  Madame  Louise  (con 
tralto),  266,  296,  301 

"Home,   Sweet  Home"    (song),  34 

Honolulu,  364 

Honorary  Degree  LL.D.,  371 

"  Hora  Novissima  "  (oratorio,  Ho 
ratio  Parker),  209 

Horn    (composer),   350 

Hotaling,  Richard,  354 

"Hound  of  Heaven,  The"  (poem), 

63 
Housmann,  Alfred  Edward   (poet), 

333,  334 

Housmann,  Laurence  (author),  332 
Howard,  Esme    (diplomatist),   127 
Howells,  W.  D.    (author),  44 
Howling  Dervishes,  26 
Hub,  the,  248 
Huddersfield,  174 
Hudson  River,  20 
Hume  (medium),  77 
Humperdinck    (composer),   181 
Hunding      (in      "The      Valkyrie," 

Wagner),   123,  252 
Hungarian  Gypsy  tunes,  164 
"Husband   in   Clover,   A"    (play), 

44 
Huss,    Henry    Holden    (composer), 

126,  226 
Huxley,   Prof.   Thomas    (scientist), 

Preface,    3,    72 
Hyde,  Walter   (tenor),  333 


Hyde  Park  Corner,  120 

Hymn  of  Longing"    (song),  322 
"Hymn  of  Love"    (song),  322 
"  Hymn  of  Praise,  The  "    (cantata, 

Mendelssohn),  52 
"Hymnus"  (song),  291,  306 
Hypnotism,  74,  75,  77 

lago    (in    "Othello"),   Verdi,   266, 
295,  309 

"I    don't    want    to    stay    here    no 
longer"   (song),  295 

"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth  " 
(song),  371 

Illinois,  339 

"  I  Maestri  Cantori  "  (opera,  Wag 
ner),   137 

"  Impresario,    The "     (opera,    Mo 
zart),  367,  369 

"In  a  Balcony"   (Browning),  271 

"In  Autumn"  (song),  350 

Indianapolis,  218,  226 

Indians,  6,  325 

"In  Memoriam "  (song  cycle,  Leh- 
mann),  290 

"I     Pagliacci"      (opera,     Leonca 
vallo),  139,  180 

Ipswich,  85 

Irate  Hibernian,  314 

Ireland,  117,  121,  144,  295 

Irish  Ditties,  121,  317 

Irish    Opera     ("Shamus    O'Brien," 
Stanford),  120 

Irish  Stories,  313 

"Irish  Symphony"   (Stanford),  313 

Irish,  the,  313 

Irving,  Laurence,  155 

Irving  Place  Theatre,  310 

Irving,   Sir  Henry    (actor),  62,   65, 
142,  155,  178,  194,  207,  334,  335 
As  Mathias,  66 

Isle  of  Wight,  151,  265 

Isolde  (Albani  as),  182,  183 
(Lehmann  as),  58,  256 
(Nordica  as),  254 
(Sucher  as),  58 

"Israel  in  Egypt"   (oratorio,  Han 
del),   52,   306 

Italian,  136,  139,  182,  184,  207,  224, 
296 

Italian  Cities,  23 

Italians  Critical,  69 

Italian  Government,  127 

Italian  Lakes,  64 


INDEX 


387 


Italian  Language,  112,  123 

Italian  Manner,  130 

Italian  Opera,  73,  295,  296,  313,  328 

Italian  Repertory,  285 

Italian  Riviera,  63 

Italian  School  of  Music,  68 

Italian  Selections,  134 

Italian  Singer,  267,  292 

Italy,  22,  61,  62,  64-71,  88,  90,  127 

"  It  is  Better  to  Laugh"  (song),  350 

"Ivanhoe"    (opera,    Sullivan),    92, 

106 
"I've  Been  Roaming"   (song),  350 


James,  Francis   (artist),  77 
James,  Henry   (author),  150,  151 
Janotha,  Mile,   (pianist),  86,  90,  92 
Janson,  Agnes  (singer),  164 
Japanese  Language,   123 
Jarrow   (monastery  of),  10 
Jastrow,       Prof.        (Shakespearean 

scholar),  127 
Jay,  Isabel  (singer),  335 
Jefferson,    Joseph    (actor),    326-328 
Jefferson,  Thomas  (House  of),  2 
Jefferson,  William  (actor),  327 
Jenkins   (composer),  168 
Jenkinson     (in    "  Vicar    of    Wake- 
field"),  334 
Jensen   (composer),  320 
Jeremy   Crow    (in    "  Meg's   Diver 
sion  "),  44 

Joachim,  Joseph   (violinist),  30,  90, 

125,  131,  144,  163,  !79,  237,  288 

"Joan;  or,  The  Brigands  of  Blue- 

goria"  (opera,  Ford),  82 
Job,  Book  of   (drama),  371 
"Job"   (oratorio,  Parry),   159 
Johannes    (in    "  Evangelimann "), 

206 

John  Precentor,  10 
Johns,  Clayton  (composer),  235 
Johnson  House,  7 
Jones,  Paul   (artist),  343 
Jones,  Sir  Lawrence,  153 
"Joshua  Fit  de  Battle  of  Jericho" 

(song),  295 

Journet  (basso),  207,  297 
Juch,  Emma   (singer),  124 
Judas  (in  "Passion  Music"),  52 

(in  "The  Apostles"),  311 
"Judas      Maccabaeus"      (oratorio, 
Handel),  52 


'Julius      Caesar"      (play,     Shake 
speare),  41,  329 
Quarrel  scene  of,  20,  98 


Kaighn,    Bartram     (schoolmaster), 

16,  17,  18 

Kalisch,  Paul  (tenor),  303 
Kansas,  253 
Kansas  City,  297,  299 
Kappes,         Mr.         (Mendelssohn's 

friend),   341 

Kaun,  Hugo  (composer),  228 
Kean,  Edmund  (actor),  40,  261 
Keats   (poet),  359 
Kellogg,    Clara   Louise    (soprano), 

30 

Kembles,  The   (actors),  40,  261 
Kensington  Gore,  137,  146 
Kensington  Palace  Gardens,  146 
Kentucky,  293,  296 
Kienzl    (composer),  206 
King,  The  (in  "Lohengrin"),  250, 

267 
"King  Arthur"  (cantata,  Purcell), 

211,  253 

King  Edward  VII,  305,  311 
King  George  V,  268 
"  King    Robert    of    Sicily "    (poem, 

Longfellow),  280 

"King   Robert   of    Sicily"    (recita 
tion,   Rossetter   Cole),   280 
Kingston,  Beatty   (writer),  143 
Kipling,  Rudyard   (poet),  230,  231, 

236 

Kitchener,  Lord,  265 
Klafsky,  Katharina   (soprano),  136 
Klingsor   (in  "Parsifal"),  242 
Kneisel  String  Quartette,  198,  285, 

286 

Knight    of    the     Swan     ("Lohen 
grin"),  182,  259 
Kobbe,  Gustave  (writer),  53 
Korbay,  Franz   (composer),  164 
Korbay,  Madame,  164 
Korsakoff,  Rimsky   (composer),  228 
Kraus,  Ernst  (tenor),  220,  222,  292 
Krehbiel,  Henry  E.    (music  critic), 

368 

Kubelik    (violinist),  286 
Kundry  (in  "Parsifal"),  242 
Kurwenal       (in       "Tristan       and 
Isolde,"      Wagner),      111-115, 
117,  145,  182,  183,  206 


388 


INDEX 


Ladies'  Annual  Gambol,  342 
Lady    Allcash    (opera    "  Fra    Dia- 

volo"),  165 
Lady  Chapel    (Chester  Cathedral), 

22 

"La  Donna  e  mobile"   (song),  24 

"  L'Af ricaine  "    (opera),   187 

Laird  of  Skibo,  272 

Lake  District,  10,  n 

Lake  Michigan,  243 

Lake  Mohonk,  125 

"Lakme"   (opera),  265 

Lamb,  Charles,  261 

Lambs'  Club,  342 

Lament       of      Amfortas       (opera, 

"Parsifal"),  167 
Lamperti,   Francesco    (teacher),   59, 

69,  88,  122,  218 

Lancashire,  10,  n,  22,  140,  179 
Land  of  Song,  24 
Lander,  Mr.   (actor),  334 
Landgrave      (in     "  Tannhauser  "), 

172,  207,  241 

Landi,   Signorina    (contralto),   180 
Laniere   (composer),  168 
Lang,  B.  J.   (conductor),  61 
"  L'Arlesienne  "    (drama),   310 
La  Scala  Theatre,  121 
"  La     Sonnambula "      (opera,     Bel 
lini),  83 
Lassalle,     Jean      (barytone),     113, 

123,  187 

"La  Traviata,"  opera,   187 
Lawes,  Henry  (composer),  168 
Lawes,  William   (composer),  168 
Lawrenceville  School,  3 
Lawson,    Corinne   Moore    (singer), 

198 

"  Lay  on,  Macduff !  "  275 
Leach  (artist),  91 
League  of  Nations,  121 
"Le   Cid"    (opera),   187 
Lee  (General),  3 
Leeds,  174 

Leeds  Choral   Society,   174 
Lehigh  Valley  Railway  Co.,  58 
Lehmann,  Lilli  (soprano),  104,  191, 

244,  256,  257,  258,  266,  303 
Lehmann,   Liza    (singer-composer), 

131,    146,    225,    250,    290,    332- 

334 

Lehmann,  Marie  (singer),  257,  258 
Leighton   (painter),  146 
Lemoyne,  Sarah   (actress),  271 


Lennox,  Cosmo  Gordon,  83 
Leonato    (in  "Much  Ado"),  294 
Leoncavallo   (composer),  119 
"  Les    deux    Grenadiers"     (song), 

103,  180 

"Les    Huguenots"    (opera,   Meyer 
beer),  124,  139,  183,  187 
"Lesson  in  Love,  A"    (play),  44 
"  Let  the  Dreadful  Engines  "  (Pur- 
cell),  168 

Letter  from  Paderewski,  330,  331 
Levitation,  77 

Levy,  Heniot  (pianist),  358 
Liberty  Bell,   3 

Liceo  Musicale  (Bologna),  68 
Life  Guards  (officers  of),  78 
Lincoln,  Abraham  (President),  4,  6, 

3i9,  320 
Lincoln,   Colonel   Robert    (Minister 

to   England),   319,   320 
Lincoln,  "Tad,"  319,  320 
Lind,  Jenny  (soprano),  48,  205 
Lippincott  Family,  14 
Liszt   (composer),  104,  228,  302 
"Little  Lord  Fauntleroy"    (novel), 

89 
"Little  Silver  Ring,  The"    (song), 

350 

Litvinne,  Madame  (singer),  187 
Liverpool,  10,  22,  83,  178,  212 
Liverpool  Orchestral  Society,  177 
Liverpool  Philharmonic,   178 
LL.D.,  Doctor  of  Laws,  371 
Lloyd,  Edward   (tenor),  121,  287 
Lloyd,  Madame,  287 
Lodge,    Sir    Oliver    (scientist),    76, 

116 

Loeffler,     Charles     Martin      (com 
poser),  338 
Loewe,  Carl    (composer),  124,  158, 

159,  190,  320,  344,  348,  350 
Loge    (in   "  Rheingold "),  250,  252, 

309 

"Lohengrin"  (opera,  Wagner), 
129,  180,  182,  187,  221,  243, 
249,  250,  259,  267,  296,  302,  303 

London,  7,  22,  27,  55,  57,  59,  62, 
63,  72,  75,  77,  78,  79,  82,  83,  90, 
93,  100,  105,  108,  no,  122,  124, 
125,  127,  131,  134,  135,  140, 
149,  150,  157,  164,  165,  166, 
*77>  J79,  J8o,  181,  183,  185, 
190,  195,  198,  199,  200,  204, 

205,     209,     212,     2l6,     217,     220, 


INDEX 


389 


225,  226,  235,  260,  265,  266, 
286,  288,  289,  294,  295,  303, 

304,    307,    309,    313,    333,    335, 

336,    343 

London  Audiences,  107 
London  Directory,  II 
London  Times,  106,  118,  151 
Longfellow  (poet),  280,  287 
Lord    Allcash    (in    "Fra    Diavolo"), 

165,  182 

Lord  Dundreary,  166 
"Lord    is    a    Man    of    War,    The" 

(duet,  Handel),  53,  306 
Lord    Touchstone    Pepper    (in    "A 

Reformer  in  Ruffles"),  44 
Los  Angeles,  283 
"Lost  Chord,  The"  (song),  184 
Lotos  Club,  323 
Louisville,  293,  296 
Lourdes,  miracles  of,  116 
"Love  Songs"  (Brahms),  164 
"Lov'st  Thou   for   Beauty"    (song), 

350 
"Lucia"      (opera,     Donizetti),     85, 

187,  293 

"Lucifer"  (oratorio),  219 
Lung*Arno,  Florence,  72 
Lutkin,  Professor  Peter  C.,  341 
Lyceum  Theatre   (New  York),  216, 

368 

4th  Ave.  and  24th  St.,  216 
Lymington,  152 
Lyric  Club  (London),  102 
Lysiart,     aria     of     ("Euryanthe"), 

164 

"Macbeth"  (play,  Shakespeare),  182 
McClellan  (General),  3 
McCormack,  John  (tenor),  334 
McCoy,    Wm.    J.    (composer),    338, 

353 

McCullough,  John  (actor),  38 
MacCunn,  Hamish   (conductor),   333 
MacDonald,  George  (poet),  89 
MacDowell,       Edward       A.       (con 
ductor),  337,  338,  350 
Maclntyre,        Margaret        (singer), 

172,  229 

Mackenzie,  Sir  Alexander  (com 
poser),  75,  102,  119,  122,  131, 
164 


Macready  (actor),  40 
"Madame    Butterfly"    (opera,    Puc 
cini),  123,  369 
Madison  Square,  133 
Madison  Square  Theatre,  42 
Madrigal  Society,  48 
Mad  Scene  (from  "Lucia"),  293 
Maeterlinck  (author),  116 
Magdalena     (in     "Evangelimann"), 

206 

"Magelone"  (Brahms),  190,  204 
Magna  Charta,  14 
"Magpies,    The"    (club),    102,    103, 

106 
Mahler,    Gustav    (conductor),     114, 

321,358 
"Maid  as    Mistress,    The"    (opera, 

Pergolesi),  368 
"Maidens    of   Cadiz,   The"    (song), 

350 

Maine,  125,  354 
Main  Street  (Moorestown),  7 
Maitland,     J.     A.     Fuller     (critic), 

1 06,  118 
Mancinelli,   Luigi    (conductor),    180, 

187,207,  267,  295 
"Mandalay"  (song),  230 
"Manfred"      (play,     Byron),     323, 

3H 

Manhattan  Island,  274 
Manhattan  Opera  House,  369 
Manns,  August  (conductor),  58,  82, 

124 

"Manon"  (opera,  Massenet),  304 
"Manru"        (opera,        Paderewski), 

301,  302 
Mansfield,     Richard     (actor),     328, 

329,  330 
Mantelli,     Madame     (singer),     184, 

187, 193 
"Manzoni,"  Requiem  Mass  (Verdi), 

227 

Marcello  (in  "Les  Huguenots"),  183 
Marchesi,  Madame  Blanche  (singer), 

236 
"Marguerite       at       the       Spinning 

Wheel"  (song),  350 
Marguerite     de     Valois     (in     "Les 

Huguenots"),  183 
Mario,  Signer  (tenor),  83 
Marius,  Monsieur  (comedian),  97,  98 


390 


INDEX 


Mark  Antony  (Speech  of),  20 
F.  C.  Bangs  as,  41,  329,  330 

"Marriage  of  Figaro,  The"  (op 
era,  Mozart),  187 

Mars,  323 

Marschener  (composer),  228 

Marseilles,  27 

"Martha"  (opera,  Flotow),  30 

Martin,  Riccardo  (tenor),  369 

Martin,  Robert  (playwright),  82 

"Martyr  of  Antioch,  The"  (ora 
torio,  Sullivan),  159 

Mascagni  (composer),  123 

Massenet  (composer),  145,  219,  304, 
350 

Master  of  the  Gods,  208 

Master  of  Skibo,  269 

Master  of  the  Queen's  Musick,  171 

Materna,  Madame  (singer),  191, 
242,  243 

Mathias  (in  "Evangelimann"), 
206 

Mattullath,  Alice  (translator),  368 

"Maud"  Song  Cycle  (Somervell), 
290 

Maurel,  Victor  (barytone),  115, 
118,119,122,257,266,295 

Maurice  Grau  Opera  Company, 
241 

Mayer,  Daniel  (manager),  113 

May  Festival,  Cincinnati,  343 

"May  Night"  (song),  350 

"Medicin  Malgre  Lui,  Le" 
(play,  Moliere),  369 

"Mefistofele"  (opera,  Boito),  187 

"Meg's  Diversion"  (play),  44 

Meisslinger,  Miss  (singer),  182, 
244 

"Meistersinger,  Die"  (opera, 
Wagner),  58,  ill,  113,  139, 
144,  167,  173,  182,  187,  188, 
260,  266 

Melba,  Nellie  (soprano),  121,  183, 
187,  191,  192,  220,  232,  254, 
290,  293,  296 

Melbourne  (Australia),  365 

Melodrama,  282 

"Melusine"       (opera,       Hofmann), 

159 
Melvin,      Honorable      Henry      A., 

354 


Mendelssohn,  Felix  (composer),  32, 
52,  93,  147,  159,  160,  219,  310, 

3ii,3i7,34i 

Mendelssohn  Hall,  225,  232 
Mendelssohn  Scholarship,  59 
Mephistopheles   ("Faust"),  96,    113, 

139,^45,313 

Mercantile  Library,  40 

Meredith,  George  (novelist),  147, 
148,  149,  150 

Mersey  River,  22 

"Message,  The"  (song),  88 

"Messiah,  The"  (oratorio,  Han 
del),  52,  58,  88,  127,211,  219, 
221,  232,  249,  250,  300,  318 

Metropolitan  Opera  Company,  343 

Metropolitan  Opera  House  of  New 
York,  132,  186,  187,  190,  193, 
197,  218,  219,  232,  247,  251, 
257,  260,  269,  289,  292,  301, 

309,  310,  330,  369 
Meyerbeer  (composer),  350 
Michael   Angelo's   "David,"   65,   80, 

271 

Middle  West,  132,  320,  362 
"Midsummer    Night's    Dream,    A" 

(music     by     Schumann),      153, 

310,  337,  367 
Pyramus,  153 
Thisbe,  153 

"Mignon"  (opera,  Thomas),  30,  369 

Mikado's  subjects,  123 

Milan,  58,  59,  121,  122,  124 

Millais  (painter),  146 

Miller,  Ruth  (singer),  370 

Milton,  John  (reading  from),  87 

Milwaukee,  221 

Mime  (in  "Siegfried"),  253,  309, 
368 

Minerva,  323 

Minneapolis,  285 

Minstrels,  Christie,  295 

"Missa  Solemnis"  (Beethoven), 
219,  228 

"Mock  Doctor,  The"  (opera,  Gou 
nod),  369 

Modjeska,  Madame  Helena  (ac 
tress),  330,  331  . 

Mohammedan  Religion,  25 

Moliere  (dramatist),  369 

Monckton,  Paul  (playwright),  83 


INDEX 


391 


Monday  "Pop."  (concerts),  91,  125, 

163, 179 

Montholon,  General,  153 
Moor,  The  (in  "Otello"),  295 
Moore,  George  (author),  151 
Moore,  Tom  (poet),  235,  344 
Moorestown,  6,  15,  1 6,  17,  29,  38,  42 
Moorestown      (Episcopal      Church), 

28,31 

Moorestown  School,  16,  17,  18,  20 
Moorish  magician,  343 
Morgan,  J.  Pierpont,  Sr.,  247 
Morgan,    Tali    Esen    (choral    direc 
tor),  1 60 

Morris,  Major  (U.  S.  A.),  16 
Morris,  William  (poet),  158 
"Mors    et    Vita"     (oratorio,    Gou 
nod)  ,  52 

"Moses   in   Egypt"    (oratorio,    Ros 
sini),  52,  159 

Moses  (in  "Vicar  of  Wakefield"),  334 
Moss,  Hugh  (stage  director),  97 
Mother  in  England,  My,  93,  94 
Mottl,   Felix   (conductor),    134,    167, 

206,  260 

Moulton,  Professor,  370 
Mozart    (composer),    51,     180,    228, 

307,  350,  368 
Mr.  Babblebrook  (in  "A  Lesson  in 

Love"),  44 
"Much       Ado       about       Nothing" 

(opera,  Stanford),  294 
Muck,  Doctor  (conductor),  260,  262 
Miihlmann,  Adolf  (singer),  267 
Miiller,  Hugo  (playwright),  215 
Miiller,     Lieder     (songs,     Schubert), 

204,  205,  247,  250 
Miiller,  Professor  Max,  117,  205 
Miiller,  Wilhelm,  204,  205 
Musical  Art  Society,  102 
Musical  Fund  Hall,  48 
Musical  Mornings,  216 
Myers,  Professor  F.  W.  (scientist),  76 
"My       Heart       Ever        Faithful" 

(song),  350 
"My  Pretty  Jane"  (song),  88 

"Nadeshda"          (opera,          Goring 

Thomas),   105 
"Nan,        the        Good-for-Nothing" 

(play),  44 
Naples,  360 
Napoleon,  153,  267 
Narrator  (in  "The  Redemption"),  52 


Nashville,  221 

Natchez,  Tivadar  (violinist),  120 
Negro,  317 

Negro  Minstrels,  Distaste  for,  39 
Negroes,  325 

Neilson,  Adelaide  (actress),  38,  42 
as  Juliet,  41 
as  Viola,  41 
Neilson,       Robert       and       William 

(friends),  42,  43 

Neruda,     Madame    Norman     (pian 
ist),  125 

Nevada,  Madame  Emma  (singer),  265 
"Nevermore,"  281 
New  Amsterdam  Theatre,  367 
Newboldt,  Henry  (poet),  359 
New  England  town,  312 
New  Jersey,  6 
New  Theatre,  327 
New  Thought,  76 
New  World,  145,  276,  278 
New   York,    42,    52,    61,    102, 
125,    127,    132,    154, 

187,    188, 

201, 

219, 

232, 

249, 

284, 


164,  186, 

198,  199, 

217,  218, 

230,  231, 


247, 
260, 
291, 


248, 
273, 
295, 


157, 
189, 
204,    209, 

221, 
238, 


220, 
233, 
250, 
285, 


297,     300, 


108, 
160, 
197, 

212, 
225, 

x     245' 

256,  259, 
290, 
301, 


289, 


309,  311,  318,  322,  333,  335, 
338,  342,  358,  364,  365,  366, 
367,  368,  369,  370 

New  York  College,  280 

New  York  Symphony  Orchestra,  323 

New  York  Theatre,  342 

New  York  Times,  367 

New  York  Tribune,  368 

Niagara  Falls,  20 

"Niebelungen  Ring"  (Wagner),  171, 
222,  309 

Niebelungen  (story),  253 

"Night  Bell,  The"  (opera,  Doni 
zetti),  368,  369 

Nilsson,  Christine  (soprano),  36 

"Noblest  of  Knights"  (song),  350 

Nordica,  Lillian,  127,  129,  188,  189, 
220,  232,  244,  247,  250,  254, 
255,  256,  266,  267,  290,  292, 

293,309,359,365 
Norman  Ancestors,  12 
North  America,  185,  315,  365 
North  American  Indian,  317 
Northwestern  University,  339 


392 


INDEX 


Nova  Scotia,  362 

"Now  your  days  of  Philandering" 

(song),  350 

Noyes,  Alfred   (poet),  367 
Nuremburg,  173 

Oberlander    (tenor),   117 
Oberlin  College,  241 
"Odysseus"    (cantata,  Bruch),   52 
"O    Ewigkeit"     (cantata,    Bach), 

163 
Offenbach,  Jacques  (composer),  42, 

370 

Offertorium,  68 
Ohio,  286 

Ohio  Valley  Exposition,  343 
"Oh,    Let    Night    Speak    of    Me" 

(song),  350 

"Oh,  My  Lyre"    (song),  350 
"Oh,  Rest  in  the  Lord"   (aria),  93 
"  Olaf  Trygvasson"  (song),  219 
Old  World,  176,  307 
Olitzka,  Rosa   (contralto),  187,  290 
Olivia     ("Vicar    of    Wakefield"), 

335 

Olympus,  323 

"Omnipotence"    (song),  371 
"On    Wings    of    Music"     (song), 

3i7 

Opera  Comique,  81,  83,  304,  335 
Opera  in  English,  30,  107 
Opera,  French,  107 
German,  107 
Italian,  107 

Opera  House   (Blackpool),  140 
Opp,  Julie    (actress),  216,  236 
Orange,  N.  ).,  249 
"  Oratorio,  Opera  Spoiled,"  61 
Oratorio    Society     (The    Cecilian), 

48 
Oratorio  Society  of  New  York,  127, 

221,  310,  324 
Orchestra  Concerts,  Crystal  Palace, 

82 

Order  of  Runnymede,   14 
Oregon,  285 

"Orfeo"    (opera,  Gluck),  124,  285 
Ornstein,  Leo    (pianist),  358 
Orpheus  Club  of  Philadelphia,  47, 

48,  49,  50,  196,  230,  337 
"Orpheus  with  His  Lute"    (song), 

350 
Ortrud     (in     "Lohengrin"),     182, 

343,  250,  256,  303 


"O,    Ruddier    than    the    Cherry" 

(song),  350 
Osborne  House,  265 
O'Sullivan,  Dennis    (singer),  165 
Othello,  Salvini  as,  65,  295 
Ottokar     (in    "  Der    Freischutz"), 

136 
Ouida,  Madame   (novelist),  66,  67, 

105 

Overland  Express,  362 
Oxford,  134,  154,  158 
Oxford  Street,  80 
Oxford       University,       117,       135, 

178 


Pacific  Coast,  233,  283,  284,  290, 
338,  356,  362 

Paderewski,  Ignace  (pianist),  301, 
302,^330,  331 

Paganini   (violinist),  30 

"Pagliacci,  I"  (opera,  Leonca 
vallo),  118 

Pagliano  Theatre,  68 

Palace  Theatre  of  Varieties,  97 

Palestrina's  High  Mass,  127,  128 

Pallisser,  Esther  (soprano),  100, 
117,  300 

Palmer,  Lady,  149,  286 

Palmer,  Sir  Walter,  286 

Pandolfo,  Doctor  (in  "Maid  as 
Mistress"),  368 

"Paoletta"   (opera,  Floridia),  343 

"Paradise  and  Peri"  (cantata, 
Schumann),  219,  228 

Paris,  23,  27,  58,  108,  198,  266,  277, 
.304,  335 

Paris,  Wagner  in,  103 

Parisian  production,  206 

Park  Theatre   (New  York),  369 

Parker,  Horatio  W.  (composer), 
119,  209,  337,  359 

"Parlor  Car,  The"  (play,  W.  D. 
Howells),  44 

Parratt,  Sir  Walter  (conductor), 
171,  265 

Parrish,  Miss  Elinor   (author),  43 

Parry,  Sir  Hubert  (composer),  119, 
159,  287 

"Parsifal"  (music  drama,  Wag 
ner),  127,  167,  206,  219,  228, 
241,  310 

Passion  Music  ("Messiah,"  Han 
del),  88 


INDEX 


393 


Passion  Music,  St.  John  (oratorio, 
Bach),  180 

Passion  Music,  St.  Matthew  (ora 
torio,  Bach),  52,  131,  163,  180, 
286 

Patmore,  Coventry   (poet),  152 

Patti,  Adelina  (soprano),  48,  169, 
170,  171 

"Paul  et  Virginie"    (opera),   34 

Paur,  Emil   (conductor),  221,  291 

Peabody   Institute,    342 

Peace  Concert,  305 

Peace  Conference,  302 

"  Peasants,  The  (Bauern)  Can 
tata "  (Bach),  145 

Pearse,  Mrs.  Godfrey,  83 

Peile,  Kinsey  (playwright),  83 

"  Pelleas  and  Melisande "  (opera, 
Debussy),  306 

Pendleton,  Elliott,  43 

Penn  Club   (Philadelphia),  65 

Pennshawken  Creek  (New  Jersey), 
6 

Pennsylvania,  3 

Pennsylvania  Railroad,  19,  31 

Penn,  William,  6,  n 

Penn's  Surveyor    (Skull),   12 

Pergola   Theatre    (Florence),    69 

Pergolesi  (composer),  368 

"Per  questa  bella  mano "  (song), 
1 80 

"Persian  Garden,  In  a"  (song 
cycle,  Liza  Lehmann),  225 

Peter  (opera,  "Hansel  and  Gre- 
tel"),  181 

Peter  (in  "Passion  Music"),  52 

Pevny,  Olga  (singer),  241 

Philadelphia,  i,  6,  n,  15,  16,  22, 
27,  29,  39,  45,  48,  50,  53,  57,  58, 
59,  62,  65,  126,  161,  196,  217, 
219,  221,  227,  243,  248,  249, 
276,  293,  337,  367 

Philadelphia,  Map  of,  by  Nicholas 
Skull,  12 

Philadelphia  Orchestra,   311,  358 

Philadelphia  Public,  39 

"Philemon  and  Baucis"  (opera, 
Gounod),  135,  139,  187 

Philharmonic  Orchestra  of  New 
York,  157,  190,  291,  322,  337, 

358 
Philharmonic      Society      (London), 

134,  164,  1 80 
Phrenologist  story,   80,   81 


Piano,  28 

Piano  Concerto,  337 

Piatti,  Signor   (cellist),  90,  180 

"Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  The" 
(Browning),  music  by  Bergh, 
281 

Pigeon  (in  "Golden  Haired  Ger 
trude"),  44 

"  Pilgers  Morgenlied"  (song), 
291,  306 

Pilgrims,  The  (Dramatic  Society, 
Germantown),  43 

Pinero,  Arthur    (playwright),   150 

Pini,  Corsi  (singer),  166 

"Pirate    Song,    The"    (song),    350 

Pittsburgh,  274 

Pizarro    (in    "Fidelio"),    136 

Plains  of  Lombardy,  64 

Planchette  Story,   110-116,   121,  295 

Plangon,  Pol  (singer),  137,  183, 
184,  187,  193,  232,  245,  292,  294 

Players,  The    (club),  326,  328 

"Pluie  et  le  Beau  Temps,  La" 
(Gozlan),  293 

Plumptree,  337 

"Plus  grand  dans  son  Obscurite " 
(song),  265 

Poe,  Edgar  Allan  (poet),  280,  281, 
338 

Poet  Laureate,  90,  151 

"Poet's  Love"  (song  cycle,  Schu 
mann),  205 

Pogner   (in  "Die  Meistersinger "), 

137 

Pohlig,   Carl    (conductor),   358 
Polish  singers,  129,  182 
Ponchielli   (composer),  228 
Pope  Leo  XIII,  127,   128 
Pope's  Choir   (St.  Peter's),  24 
Portland,  285 
"Portrait   of   Dorian    Gray,   The" 

(novel),  150 

Possart,  Ernst  (actor),  280,  324 
"Postal  Card,  The"  (play,  W.  D. 

Howells),  44 

Powell,  Arthur  (composer),  338 
Power,  Sir  George  (singer),  83 
Powers,  Ada  Weigel  (composer), 

358 

Powers,  Hiram   (sculptor),  327 
Poynter  (painter),  146 
Premier  of  Poland,  302 
Press  Club,  155 


394 


INDEX 


Primrose,  Mrs.   (in  "The  Vicar  of 

Wakefield"),    334 
Prince  Arthur   (story  of),  103 
Prince  Consort,  171 
Prince  of  Darkness,  96 
Princess  Christian,  102 
Princess  Louise,  102 
Prince    of    Wales,    103,    165,    169, 

184,  265,  268 

Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales,  173 
Princeton  University,  3,  16,  230 
Prologue     (opera    "I    Pagliacci"), 

371 

"Prospice"    (song),   158,  243 
Prout    (composer),   159 
Proridence,  322 
Puccini   (composer),  369 
Puck,  362 

Punch   (magazine),  91 
Purcell    (composer),    124,   168,  2x1, 

35° 
Pyne,  Minton    (organist),  51 

Quakers,   2,   3,    n,    15,    19,   22,   25, 

34 

Quakerism,  73,  152 
Quaker  ancestors,  54,  76 
Quaker  City,  65,  219 
Quaker  meeting,  39,  93,  268,  286 
Quartettes   (Brahms),  164 
Queen  Alexandra,  90,  295,  305 
Queen    Victoria,    85,    90,    102,    120, 

171,    173,    213,    214,    265,    267, 

268,  295 
Queen  Victoria's  Diamond  Jubilee, 

170,  264 

Queen's  Hall,  88,  131,  134 
Queenstown,  212 
Quince,  183 

Rachmaninoff   (composer),  350 

Radleigh  College,  154 

Randegger,  Alberto   (teacher),  102, 

106,  120 
"  Rantzau,   I"    (opera,   Mascagni), 

123 
Raven,  The  (Poe),  Bergh's  setting, 

280,  281,  338,  339 

Ravogli,  Julia  (contralto),  124,  139 
Recoschewitz,     Madame     (singer), 

172 
Redding,    Jos.     D.     (author),    341, 

360,  361 
"Redemption,       The"       (oratorio, 

Gounod),  52,  131,  1 60,  219,  302 


Reeves,    Sims    (tenor),    83-88,    90, 

121 

Reeves,  Mrs.  Sims,  85 
"Reformer  in  Ruffles,   A"    (play), 

44 

Reger,  Max  (composer),  307 
"  Reine  de  Saba,  La"  (opera,  Gou 
nod),  265 
Reiss,     Albert     (tenor),    296,     309, 

368,  369 

Remenyi   (Hungarian  violinist),  30 
Renaud,  Maurice    (barytone),  266 
"Requiem"    (Brahms),   287 
"Requiem"    (Verdi),   159,   302 
Resolution,  To  Act  and  to  Sing,  25 
Restoration  Period,  29 
"  Reverend  Mr.  Bispham,  The,"  99 
Revolutionary  times,  271 
"Rheingold,    The"    (opera,    Wag 
ner),  112,  167,  250,  253,  302 
Rhine,  251 

Rice,  Wallace  (author),  Preface 
Richings-Bernard  Opera  Co.,  30 
Richmond,  112 

Richter,     Hans     (conductor),     134, 
144,    167,    171,    178,    190,    191, 

209,    211,    212,    286,    288,    358 

Richter,  Mrs.,  212 

Ricordi    (publishers),  121 

Riddle,   George    (elocutionist),  155, 

280 
"Rigoletto"     (opera,    Verdi),    187, 

266 
"Ring,     The"      (cycle     of     music 

dramas,    Wagner),    244,    250, 

258 

Ristori,  Madame   (actress),  38,  40 
Rochester,  285,  286 
Rocky  Mountains,  297 
Rodewald,  Alfred  (patron),  178 
Rodick's       Hotel       (Bar      Harbor, 

Maine),   43 

Roman  Catholic  Cathedral,  33 
Roman  Catholic  Practices,  28,  128, 

152 

Roman  Church,  Music  of,  24,  49 
Romanticists,  348 
Rome,   24,    58,    127,    128,    154,   248, 

276,   327 
"Romeo  and  Juliet"   (comic  opera, 

Charles  C.  Soule),  45 
"Romeo  and  Juliet"   (opera,  Gou 
nod),  187,  292 
Ronalds,  Mrs.,  96 


INDEX 


395 


Roosevelt,     Theodore     (President), 

283,  305,  317,  318,  319 
Roosevelt,  Mrs.  Theodore,  283,  317 
Root,  Geo.  F.    (song  writer),   65 
Rosenfeld,     Sydney      (playwright), 

368 

Ross,    Betsy    (House   of),   2 
Rossini,  G.  (composer),  52,  69,  120, 

159,  302 

Royal  Academy  of  Music,  75 
Royal  Albert  Hall,  131,  146 
Royal  Amateur  Orchestral  Associ 
ation,  103 
Royal    Carl    Rosa    English    Grand 

Opera  Co.,  106,  171 
Royal    College   of   Music,    55,   287, 

334 
Royal  English  Opera  House,  81,  92, 

97,  98,  106 

Royal  Institution,  122 
Royal  Italian  Opera,  The,  171 
Royal  Opera,  Berlin,  32,  108,  286 
Royal  Opera,  Covent  Garden,  117, 

J35 

Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam,  225 
Rudbeck,  Baron,  no,  in 
Rudolf    (in   "Der  Wald"),   303 
Runciman,  John   (critic),  163 
Runnymede,  Order  of,  14 
Russell,  Ella    (soprano),  305 

St.  Botolph  Club,  199 

St.  Clement's  Church,  51 

"St.    Elizabeth"    (oratorio,   Liszt), 

302 
"St.    Francis"     (oratorio,    Tinel), 

159 

St.  Giles   (Cathedral),  144 

St.  Helena,  153 

St.  James's  Hall,  84,  90,  125,  135, 
164,  179,  185,  205,  235,  306 

St.  James's  Theatre,  150 

St.  John  Passion  (oratorio,  Bach), 
1 80 

St.  John's  Church,  35 

St.  John's  Day,  173 

St.  Louis,  221 

St.  Mark's  Church,  28,  51,  59 

St.  Martin's  Lane  (Friends  meet 
ing),  93 

St.  Matthew  Passion  (oratorio, 
Bach),  Judas,  Peter,  High 
Priest,  Christ,  52,  131,  163,  180, 
286 


St.  Paul,  285 

St.  Paul   (First  Corinthians),  345 

"  St.  Paul "  (oratorio,  Mendels 
sohn),  52 

St.  Peter  the  Apostle,  Church  of, 
10 

St.  Peter's,  127,  128 

St.  Peter's    (Pope's  Choir),  24 

Sachs,  Hans  (in  "  Meistersinger  "), 
266 

Safonoff,  Wassili    (conductor),  337 

Sailors'  Home,  232 

Saint  Gaudens,  Augustus  (sculp 
tor),  326 

Saint-Saens    (composer),   145,   228 

Sala  Filarmonica,  68 

Salem  County,  6 

Salignac  (tenor),  187,  220,  244, 
292,  296 

"Sally  in  Our  Alley"   (song),  84 

Salvini,  Tomaso  (actor),  65 

"Samson"   (oratorio,  Handel),  52 

"  Samson  et  Delila  "  (opera,  Saint- 
Saens),  145 

San  Bris  (in  "Les  Huguenots"), 
183 

San  Francisco,  339,  353,  360,  362, 
364,  366 

San  Remo  (Italy),  88 

Santissima  Annunziata  (Florence), 
68 

Santley,  Sir  Charles  (barytone),  30, 
53,  121,  145,  305 

Santo  Spiritp    (Florence),  68 

Santuzza  (in  "  Cavalleria  Rusti- 
cana"),  166 

"  Sardanapalus  "  (play,  Byron),  41 
F.  C.  Bangs  as,  41 

Sargent,  John  S.  (painter),  66,  146, 

J54 

Saroya,  Bianca    (singer),  369 
Sat.  "Pop."   (concerts),  179 
Saturday  Review,  163 
Sauer,  Emil   (pianist),  157,  163 
Sauret,  Emil  (violinist),  120 
Savage,  Henry  W.  (manager),  310 
Savoy  Theatre,  82,  94-96,  334 
Scalchi,  Sophia    (contralto),  285 
Scarlatti   (composer),  350 
"Scarlet     Letter,     The"      (opera, 

Damrosch),  222 
Schalk  (conductor),  241 
"  Schauspiel    Direktor,    Der "    (op 
era,  Mozart),  368 


396 


INDEX 


Scheff,  Fritzi  (singer),  297,  301,  321 

Scheidemantel    (barytone),  266 

Scheldt  River,  259 

Schelling,  Prof.  (Shakespearean 
scholar),  127 

Schiller    (author),  291 

Schillings,  Max  (composer),  281 

Scholastic  work,  18 

"School  for  Scandal"  (scene 
from),  44 

Schubert,  Franz  (composer),  29,  32, 
51,  124,  134,  158,  159,  179,  190, 
204,  205,  214,  219,  226,  228, 
235,  247,  250,  320,  338,  341, 
344,  348,  3 50,  37i 

Schumann,    Clara    (pianist),    350 

Schumann-Heink,  Madame  (con 
tralto),  129,  206,  208,  243,  250, 
254,  266,  267,  290,  293,  296, 

309,  34i,  364 
Schumann,  Robert    (composer),  32, 

103,    124,    134,    135,    180,    226, 

228,    235,    320,    323,    344,    348, 

349,  350 
Schumann,  Paul    (stage  manager), 

260 

Scotch  ballads,  159 
Scotch  soprano,  369 
Scotch  stories,  87,  88 
Scot,  269 
Scotia,  269,  276 

Scotland,   87,   144,  265,  269,  270 
Scots  Guards  Band,  84 
Scott,  Cyril    (composer),  350 
Scott  (poet),  344 
Scotti,  Antonio    (barytone),  295 
Scottish  orchestra,  128 
Scull,   David    (grandfather),   7,   17 
Scull,  David  (uncle),  8,  21 
Scull,  Edward   (uncle),  8 
Scull  Family,  6,  12,  14 
Scull,   Gideon    (uncle),  8 
Scull,  Jane  Lippincott   (mother),  2 
"Sea,  The"    (song),  350 
Seargent  Sulpice   (in  "Daughter  of 

the  Regiment"),  369 
"Seasons,  The"  (oratorio,  Haydn), 

52 

"Secrecy"    (song),  350 
Seguin,  Zelda    (alto),   30 
Seidl,  Anton   (conductor),  187,  190, 

191,  208,  216,  217,  221,  358 
Sembrich,   Marcella    (soprano),   88, 

218,  244,  254,  255,  296,  301 


Senta  (in  "Flying  Dutchman"), 
264 

Seppilli,  Armando  (conductor), 
118,  119 

Sermon  on  the  Mount,  355 

"  Serva  Padrona,  La"  (opera,  Per- 
golesi),  368 

"Seven  Ages  of  Man"  (Shake 
speare),  20 

"Seven  Ages  of  Man"  (song, 
Huss),  126,  226 

Seventh  Regiment  Armory  (New 
York),  52 

Shaftesbury  Avenue,   92 

Shakespeare  (poet),  20,  60,  89, 
126,  127,  142,  143,  153,  235, 
270,  275,  294,  310,  313,  337, 

344,  367 

Shakespeare  Day,  367 

Shakespeare,  William  (teacher- 
tenor),  59,  60,  6 1,  69,  74,  92, 
120,  135,  164,  236 

Shakespeareana  (Furness  Collec 
tion),  45 

Shakespeare  Travesty  ("Romeo 
and  Juliet"),  45 

"  Shamus  O'Brien "  (opera,  Stan 
ford),  1 20 

Sharman,  Percy   (violinist),  86 

Sharpless,  Isaac  (President  Haver- 
ford  College),  371 

Shaw,  George  Bernard  (author), 
117,  163 

Sheffield  Festival,  305 

Shelley,  Harry  Rowe  (composer), 
180,  235,  338 

Sheridan   (General),  3 

Sherman   (General),  3 

Sherwin,  Amy   (soprano),  86 

"  She  Stoops  to  Conquer "  (play, 
Goldsmith),  258 

Shoreham  Hotel,  255 

"Should  He  Upbraid"   (song),  350 

"Shropshire    Lad,    The"     (poem), 

333 
Shubert  Brothers   (managers),  333, 

335 

Sickert,   Walter    (painter),    151 
Sidgwick    (Professor),  76 
"Siegfried"  (opera,  Wagner),  123, 

187,  249,  250,  253,  302 
Jean    de    Reszke    as,     191,     192, 

250,  292 
Siegmund    (in   "Valkyrie"),  252 


INDEX 


397 


Sieglinde     (in     "Valkyrie"),     252, 

256,  309 

Sierra  Leone,  289 
"Signa"    (opera,    Cowen),    105 
Silva,  Margerita   (singer),  369 
Simpson  Auditorium,  283 
Sindaco,  of  Florence,  69 
Sir     Bloomfield     Brambleton      (in 

"Who's  Who"),  44 
Sir  Charles  Seymour    ("A  Cup  of 

Tea"),  44 
Sir     Peter     Teazle     ("School    for 

Scandal  "),  44 
Sistine  Chapel,  128 
"Sixty-Six"  (opera,  Offenbach), 

45 

Skeneateles  Color,  15 
Skibo  Castle,  269 
Skibo  Estate,  274 
Skinner,  Otis  (actor),  271 
Skull    (or  Scull),  12 
Skull,  Nicholas    (Penn's  Surveyor), 

"Sleep,    then,    Ah    Sleep"    (song), 

350 

Smetana  (composer),  228 
Smith,   Harold    (pianist),    325 
Smythe,      Ethel      M.      (composer), 

303 

Sociables,  31 
Society       of       American       Singers 

(Opera  Co.),  368,  369 
Society  of  Friends,  2 
Society  for  Psychical  Research,  76 
Sola  Virtus  Invicta   (Bispham  Coat 

of  Arms),  9 

"Solo  Pianist"   (Janotha),  86 
Somervell,  Arthur  (composer),  119, 

290 
"  Song     of     Hiawatha "     (cantata, 

Coleridge-Taylor),  287 
"  Songs    of    the    Mill "     (cycle    by 

Schubert),  204,  205 
"Songs  of  the  Sea"   (songs),  359 
Sonoma  County,  353 
Sophia  (in  "Vicar  of  Wakefield"), 

334 

"Sophocles,"   154,  310,  337 
"Sorcerer,    The"     (opera,    Gilbert 

and  Sullivan),  44 
South  African  War,  305 
Southampton,  152 
Southern  Negro  Melodies,  317 
Southern  States,  362 


Southport   (Eng.),  178 

Spain,  286 

Spaniard,  292 

Spaniards,  123 

"  Spectre's    Bride,    The "    (cantata, 

Dvorak),  287 

Spencer,  Herbert  (author),  147 
Spiering,     Theodore      (conductor), 

293 

Spirit  of  Flame,  253 

"  Spirit,  The,"   154 

Spiritualistic   Seances,   76-81 

"Spirituals"  (American  negro), 
348 

Spirit  Voices,  324 

Spofforth  (composer),  87 

Spong,  Hilda   (actress),  217,  285 

Springfield,  125 

Squier,  William  Barclay  (libra 
rian),  106 

Squire  Thornhill  (in  "  Vicar  of 
Wakefield"),  333,  334 

"  Stabat  Mater"  (oratorio,  Ros 
sini),  52,  69,  302 

Staple  Inn,  145 

Stanford,  Sir  Charles  Villiers 
(composer),  82,  117,  119,  127, 
133-137,  163,  288,  294,  313, 
359 

Stanley,  Professor  Albert  A.,  226 

Stars  and  Stripes,  2 

State  Concert  (Buckingham  Pal 
ace),  169,  171,  184 

State  House,  3 

Steersman,   The    (in   "Odysseus"), 

52 

Stehle  (composer),  219 
Steinert,  Morris   (collector),  217 
Stein,  Gertrude  May   (singer),  209 
Stengel,  Doctor  Sembrich,  255,  256 
Sterling,  Antoinette    (contralto),  93 
Stevenson,    Robt.    Louis     (author), 

356 
Stewart,    Sir    Robert     (conductor), 

117 
"Still  Waters  Run  Deep"    (play), 

44 

Stock  Exchange,  245 
Stock,   Frederick    (conductor),  281 
Stoker,  Bram   (manager),  334 
Stokes,  Emma    (great-aunt),  28 
Stokes  Family,  14 
Stoll,     William,     Jr.     (conductor), 

161,  163 


398 


INDEX 


"  Stonebreaker's        Song,        The," 

Strauss,  350 
"  Stormfield,"  341 
Story  of  British  Spy,  271 
Story  of  Broadway  Managers,  271 
Story  of  Carreno,  337 
Story  of  De  Pachmann,  332 
Story  of  "  Flying  Dutchman,"  260- 

264 

Story  of  Highland  Poachers,  273 
Story  of  Joseph  Jefferson,  326,  327 
Story  of  Modjeska,  331 
Story  of  President  Lincoln,  319 
Stories  of  Richard  Mansfield,  328- 

330 

Story  of  Saint  Gaudens,  326,  327 
Story  of  Richard  Strauss,  321-322 
Story,   Roosevelt   at  White    House, 

3i7 

Stradivarius,  286 
Strauss,    Richard    (composer),   280, 

291,    302,    306,    320,    321,    322, 

323,  348 

Strong,  Susan    (singer),  208 
Studebaker  Theatre,  293 
"  Student's   Companion,  The,"    16 
Sturgis,  Julian    (author),  294 
Sucher,  Rosa    (soprano),  58 
Sullivan,    Sir    Arthur    (composer), 

43,  92,  94,  96,  97,  ioo,  159,  174, 

334,  335,  350 

Sullivan,  Barry   (actor),  40 
Sunday  School  Concerts,  31 
Sunset  Magazine,  353 
Supreme   Court,of   Calif.,   354 
"Swan     and     the     Skylark,    The" 

(cantata,  Thomas),   159 
"Sweethearts"    (play,  Gilbert),  43 
Swinburne   (poet),  302 
Switzerland,  23,   72 
Sydney  (Australia),  364,  365 
Symphony     Concerts     for     Young 

People,  311 
Symphony  Hall,  336 
Symphony  No.  5    (Beethoven),  228 
Symphony    Orchestra    (Cincinnati), 

343 


Tadema,  Alma    (painter),  146 
Taft,     William     H.      (President), 

318,  319 

"Tales  of  Hoffmann"   (opera,  Of 
fenbach),  370 


Tamagno   (tenor),  69,  292,  295 
Tannhauser  (opera,  Wagner),  in, 

136,    172,    187,    206,    241,    244, 

260 
Tannhauser     (in    "Tannhauser"), 

207 

Tarkington,  Booth,  230 
"  Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay  "        (song) , 

328 

Teck  Theatre,  321 
"Te  Deum"    (Berlioz),   159 
"Telemaque,"  17 
Telramund  (in  "Lohengrin"),  180, 

182,  206,  208,  221,  249,  267 
Temple,   Richard    (actor),   334 
Temple  unto  Thespis,  276 
Tennyson,    Alfred    Lord,    90,    151, 

280,  290,  306,  316,  358 
Tennyson,  Hallam,  90 
Tennyson,  Lady,  90 
Tercentenary  of  Dublin  University, 

117 

Ternina,      Madame      Milka      (so 
prano),  291 
Terry,    Ellen     (actress),    148,    149, 

i94,   i95,  286 
Teutonic,  129,  251 
Teutonic  composers,  344 
Texas,  325 

Teyte,  Maggie   (soprano),  369 
Thames  River,  12,  259 
"That  Lass  o'  Lowrie's "    (novel), 

89 

Theatre  Royal,  Drury  Lane,  106 
Theodorus   the   Strenuous,   276 
Theodore  Thomas  Orchestra,  341 
Thirty  N.  7th  St.   (birthplace),  2 
Thomas,      Ambroise       (composer), 

369 
Thomas,    Goring    (composer),    105, 

"9,  159 
Thomas,      Theodore      (conductor), 

29,  52,  125,  228,  285 
Tinel   (composer),  159 
Tiresias  (in  "Agamemnon"),  155 
Tite  Street,  150 
Titjens,  Madame   (singer),  35 
"To  Florindo"    (song),  350 
"Tom  Bowling"   (song),  84 
Tommy  Atkins,  357 
"Tom  the  Rhymer"   (song),  159 
Tonio  (in  "I  Pagliacci"),  118,  139 
"To     Parents      and      Guardians" 

(play),  42 


INDEX 


399 


Toreador  (in  "Carmen"),  124, 
139 

Tosti,   F.  Paolo    (composer),    120 

Tosti,  Madame,  120 

"To  the  Distant  Beloved"  (song), 
179,  204 

"The  Toys"   (poem),  152 

"La  Traviata"  (opera,  Verdi),  187 

Tree,  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  (ac 
tor),  8,  140,  142,  143,  367 

"Trial  by  Jury"  (opera,  Gilbert 
and  Sullivan),  44 

Trilogy  (Wagner),  250 

"Tristan  and  Isolde"  (opera, 
Wagner),  in,  114,  117,  187, 
244,  249,  260,  291,  292,  303 

Tristan,  145 
Jean  de  Reszke  as,  182 
Edouard    de   Reszke    (as   King), 

182 
Madame  Albini  (as  Isolde),  182, 

i«3 

"Trovatore,  II"  (opera,  Verdi), 
187 

Troy,  250 

Tschaikowsky    (composer),    108 

Tuckey,  Doctor   (friend),  74,  76 

Turkish  Musicr  25 

Twain,  Mark  (author),  15,  341, 
342 

"Twelfth  Night"  (play,  Shake 
speare),  208 

Twelfth  Street  Meeting  House, 
Philadelphia,  School  at,  15 

"Two  Grenadiers,  The"  (song, 
Schumann),  49,  103,  312 


Ulana    (in  "Manru"),  301 

Uncle  Rome  (poem),  356 

United  Kingdom,  133 

United  States,  n,  60,  197,  204,  210, 
224,  225,  230,  241,  243,  249, 
288,  313,  315,  323,  327,  330, 

.358,  359,  365 
United     States     Naval     Academy, 

132 

University  Club    (St.  Louis),  45 
University  of  California,  338 
University  of  Dublin,  117 
University  of  Michigan,  226 
University  Musical  Club  (Oxford), 

134 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  42 


Urok  (in  "Manru"),  301 
Utopia,  279 

Valentine    (in  "Faust"),   139 
Valentina    (in   "Les   Huguenots"), 

183 
"Valkyrie,  The"  (opera,  Wagner), 

112,    123,    144,    167,    172,    192, 

208,  252,  260,  293 
Vancouver,  357 
Vanderdecken     (in     "The     Flying 

Dutchman,"      Wagner),      121, 

262,  264 
Van  der  Stucken    (conductor),  226, 

324,  325 

Van  Dyck  Beard,  My,  99 
Van  Dyck,  Ernst  (tenor),  167,  206, 

207,    208,    241,    243,    247,    250, 

252,  290,  292,  296,  309 
Vannuccini,  Maestro    (teacher),  61, 

68,  69 
Van  Rooy,  Anton    (barytone),  244, 

247,  250,  266,  309 
Variorum    Shakespeare     (Furness), 

45 

Vassar  College,  241 
Venerable  Bede,  The    (monk),   10, 

ii 

"  Venetian  Lion,  The,"  295 
Venice,  23,  24,  66,  118 
Venus,  323 
Venus  de  Milo,  161 
Venus     (in    "Tannhauser"),    172, 

241 

Venusberg    ("Tannhauser"),    172 
Verdi,    Giuseppe     (composer),    24, 

III,      115,      121,      122,      143,     159, 

227,  295,  301,  302,  350 

Verona,  23,  307 

Vezin,  Herman  (actor),  97,  98,  180, 
181 

"Vicar       of       Wakefield,       The" 

(opera,  Liza  Lehmann),  306,  332, 
335,  336,  343 

"Vicar,  The"  ("Vicar  of  Wake- 
field"),  335 

Vienna,  Court  Opera,  321 

Viennese  actor,  215 

Villa  Wahnfried    (Wagner's),   104 

Vine  Street  Hall,  31 

Violetta    (in   "Traviata"),   254 

Virginia,   n 

Vitam  Impendere  Vero  (Scull  Coat 
of  Arms),  13 


400 


INDEX 


Voice  trials,  Savoy  Theatre,  94-96 

Von  Biilow  (pianist,  conductor), 
104,  105 

Vulcan,  323 

Vulcan  (in  "Philemon  and  Bau 
cis"),  135,  139 


"Wachet  Auf "  (cantata,  Bach), 
163 

Wagner  family,  104 

Wagner,  Madame  Cosima  (Wag 
ner's  wife),  104,  129,  130,  190, 
191,  303,  358 

Wagner,  Richard  (composer),  74, 
103,  104,  105,  in,  112,  115, 
121,  127,  134,  171,  172,  180, 

l82,  187,  190,  206,  222,  228, 
26l,  263,  264,  291,  301,  302, 
309,  341,  350 

Wagner,  Siegfried   (son),  134,  167 
Wagner  Society,  112,  228 
Wagnerian  Concerts,  134 
Interpreters,  144 
Operas,  136,  272 
Selections,  283,  339,  358 
Singer,  303 
Wagnerian  music  dramas,  218,  220, 

328 

Waistcoat  Story,  312 
"Wald,  Der"  (opera,  Smythe),  303 
Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel,  216 
Waleen,  Baron,  no 
Walker,    Ernest     (musician),     117, 

158 
Walker,     Stuart     (actor-manager), 

370 

Wall  Street,  246 
Wallingford,  45 
Walnut  Street  Theatre,  38,  39 
"Walpurgis       Night"        (cantata, 

Mendelssohn),   159 
Walter,  the  Musician,  277 
Walther      (in      "  Meistersinger"), 

113,  123,  137 

Waltraute    (in   "  Rheingold  "),   309 
Wanamaker's  Store,  322 
"Wanderer,  The"    (song),  350 
Wanderer,  The,  247,  250 
Wanderer,  The    (in   "Siegfried"), 

191 

Wartburg   ("Tannhauser "),  172 
Warwickshire  family,  61 
Washington,  D.  C.,  221,  254,  318 


Washington,  George  (General  and 

President),  50,  305 
Waterloo  Bridge,  98 
Waterloo  Chamber,  267 
Waters    (Philadelphian),  161,  163 
Watts,      Frederick      C.      (painter), 

146,  148,  149 

"Weak  Woman"    (play),  441 
Weber  (composer),  164,  228 
'"Wedding  Song"    (song),  159 
Weeden,    Mrs.    Howard    (poetess), 

356 
Weingartner,     Felix      (conductor), 

321 

Weld,  Doctor  (clergyman),  28 
Wells  College,  241 
Welsh  enthusiast,  160 
Welsh  tenor,  290 
"Were  We  Hypnotized?"  Article, 

77 

"  Werther  "  (opera,  Massenet),  187 
Wesley,  S.  S.   (organist),  51 
West  Indies,  n 
Westminster  Town  Hall,  76 
Wetzler,    Herman    H.    (composer), 

197,  290 
Wheeler,   Benjamin   Ide    (Univ.  of 

Cal.),  339 
"When   I   Was    a   Page"    (song), 

350 

When  other  hearts  (song),  84 
Whiffen,  Mrs.    (actress),  216 
Whistler   (painter),  146 
White  House,  283,  317,  318 
White,   Stanford    (architect),  273 
Whiting,   Arthur    (musician),   247 
Whitman,  Walt  (poet),  15,  50,  198 
Whitney,  Myron  (basso),  53,  54,  56 
"Who  is  Sylvia?"    (song),  214 
"Who's  Who"   (play),  44 
"Why  do  the  nations"  (song),  312 
Wiegand    (basso),   123 
Wigan,  10 
Wilde,    Oscar    (author),    149,    150, 

i54,  358 

Wildenbruch    (author),  281 
Wilhelmj,  Auguste    (violinist),  120 
William  the  Conqueror,  10 
William   the    Conqueror    (in   opera 

"Harold"),   166 

Williams,  Evan  (tenor),  209,  290 
William  Tell  Overture,  29 
Wilson,   George,   125 
Wilson,  Miss  Margaret,  319 


INDEX 


401 


Wilson,      Woodrow       (President), 

121,    318,    319 

Wimbledon,  334 

Windsor  Castle,  171,  267 

Winnipeg,  285 

"Winter     Journey,     The"      (song 

cycle,   Schubert),  205 
Winter,  William   (dramatic  critic), 

367 
Wister,    Mrs.    Caspar    (authoress), 

"Witch's     Song,    The"     (Wilden- 

bruch),  281 

Witherspoon,  Herbert  (singer),  368 
Wolcot,  Charles    (actor),  42,  43 
Wolcot,     Mrs.     Charles     (actress), 

216 
Wolff,  Hugo   (composer),  306,  320, 

350 
Wolf,  Johannes  (violinist),  82,  120, 

236 
Wolfram  (in  "  Tannhauser  "),  in, 

112,    115,    136,    139,    172,    180, 

206,  241,  297,  298 
"Woman's   Love   and   Life"    (song 

cycle,  Schumann),  205,  349 
Wood,  Henry  (conductor),  305 
"  Woodman,  Spare  that  Tree " 

(poem),  16 


Wool  Business,  Engaged  in,  21 
Woolson,       Constance       Fennimore 

(novelist),  65 
Worcester  Cathedral,  209 

Concerts,  209 

England,   173 

Festival  of  the  Three  Choirs,  209 

Massachusetts,  209,  212 
World's       Columbian       Exposition, 

125 

Workingmen's  Club,  43 
Wotan    (in   "Valkyrie"),  Wagner, 

112,      172,      1 80,      192,     206,     208, 
250,    260,   293,    309 

Wotan's  Farewell,  167 

Wright,    Mrs.   Theodore    (actress), 


-i?34 
miner, 


Wiillner,  Dr.  Ludwig  (singer),  129 

Yankee  Doodle    (song),  78,  317 
Yarnall,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ellis,  33,  34 
Young  America  Cricket  Club,  45 
Ysaye    (violinist),   221,  282 

"Zampa"  (opera,  Herold),  30 
Zerlina    (in  "  Fra  Diavolo"),  166 
Zermatt,  23 
Zither,  Lessons  on,  28,  31 


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